Jogging to the banks of Λήθη
A stray Grecale blows me into town, Through the Gorgon’s central snake Down her petrous bowels To Acton Town, retouching on an urge An etching from the past.
I see myself in window-train Fat, bespectacled and grey, Draped with Τισιφόνη Dressed in knitted white Heading for a wedding, and Μέγαιρα clad in glossy grey A refit from my mother’s robe; The one eyed toddler in the buggy Senses all and nudges Αληκτώ, Who’s lost with Angry Birds.
We tear deeper underground Sweat trickles into eyes And salt-maps dry on varifocals, Knotted earphones blocking ears And zips in leathers buried, Yet no gadgetry to quench
The stench of the embarked.
We surface at White City, A tainted plein-air antidote So sweet, just breathe and Close the eyes and stream A pair of jogging feet Tracking blackbird arrowprints On Westwood snow; and From the top deck of the bus Just watch the cyclists pack the Roads round Shepherd’s Bush,
And think of daybreak, Past the Burton Bushes Into misty meadow, looms Of sheep and cows, their Mythic underparts unfelt.
I © 2013
Elias completed a part time BA (Hons)at theUniversity of Hull in Creative Writing. He has written short plays mostly staged in local scratch or small theatre set-ups. ‘Jogging Not Riding’ is a collection he is working on and his above poem is from this collection.