British Steel

By M.J. Cole

unnamed

 

The Station is printing an escalator that spirals clockwise

At point break banally raptured and as immaculate

As identity shouted down from history

Windows inhale to shatter themselves

Reveal a shrapnel portal beckoning

Forceps scalpel forearm force in fragments

Permeate the wall and drop void-wise

Nothing gets rebuilt only rebranded

Imperial facades are a kitsch warning

The preservation of a threshold symbol

Slack-jawed sovereignty compounds

While social combustibility ghostwrites

Parricidal syntax to trace the arc of survival

Potentiality pixelating into grain silos of undifferentiata

The new black is squared and the crack is cubed

It makes us stop at the border of them and us

Boiling footsteps of indiscretion as every starting car

Might shudder a prelude to an explosive sigh

Finally stones comfort as they rise

Two hundred fifty miles per hour as they rise

To spite the muscle and marrow of history

As they rise as they rise as they rise

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s