moonlight on pentrechwyth
this poem does not go anywhere
and takes its time getting there
moonlight on pentrechwyth
on the slag road baubled behind
a village
this village
chappeled with pubs
pubbed with chapels
murmuring of the boys
their mischief afoot
sounds of the sixties
across the counter of chippy shrine
chromium plated
mezzanine
tweet now love
dark as these dark days were
the nights joined the windowed dots
blind joy on the back roads
perchance on the lamplit streets
on the bus route out and back
murmured in the gears
in the guts of the works hot and red
rolling the ghost metals
leeching from the ruins
below their time out of mines
trucked fool’s gold
just the boys outside now
everyone is indoors
or in the pub
some having just walked home
from church or chapel
the night is the boys altar
spirits are afoot and rising
suddenly a super moon
over the buzzing
of the telegraph poles
invasion
their nonchalance tested
contested real cool and slow like
cool like man
pasties in hand from the side door
of the pub’s nuisance
with no time for all this
pennies change hands
hot hands on a cold night
where is asked
where is walked
never arriving
always wandering
cornering the next road
dark ways and dark days
lamps lit by yesterday
parented by toil’s travails
maybe
often said
repeated often
never answered
oh boys mun
boys mun
come on
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