Through Bars


that carry a sign,
a yellow deterrent,
a warning to life
of a snap and a current.

We see children’s arms
on frames out of reach
railing relentless
like flags on a beach.

The hum just aligns
in brief harmony
with a yelp and a whistle,
a graze of a knee.

The timbre, consistent,
insistent and strange;
the footsteps, energetic
and flat in their range.

Tridents glow silver
in a neat little line:
omniscient weapons
stood out of time.

Rail against ageing
and the fuzz of progress
meld worlds from the hot air
in years, you’ll regress.

Through bars there’s an
abundance of folly and wit
in a daze I’m withdrawn
where, alone, I stare and I sit.