Temperance

 

 

Grinding teeth,

leak of heavy bass,

herded- for a nominal fee-

tubular chaos.

 

She watches intently 

from the armpit of her fellow commuter

as a disco bauble earring

swings

lacklustre,

tepidly enthusiastic

from the pristine pierced ear

of a Chelsea goddess.

 

Slow blink, inhale-

Temperance girl

dads words echo,

heavily accented with hiraeth vowles.

 

The breaks of the burrowing monster scream 

lights flicker

everyone looks up momentarily

resume positions.

 

35 years of temperance –

bought with her a double edged sword

of pain and joy,

a girl, a boy.

 

Temperance, the Nordic warrior

dreams of Valhalla and its snow clad tops.

She comes,

armed with a Dictaphone.