Lost on the road

 

Long-headed Poppy (Papaver dubium). Frome, 9 June 2021.

Half-awake. And in the silent darkness

the far-off sound of clanging

wagons on the quarry railway

someone picking them up and dropping them crosswise

or is it the baying of dogs in a foundry,

a dreadnought works, but where? Does it only 

plate hulls at midnight, is it so far away

that it's only now the sound can reach us? 

Or is there, far in the Mendips, an overlooked cave,

its rocky knuckles a board for the hooting of trolls?

Or is this rumbling a throat deep in the earth

accepting the daily tribute of carted dead?

Bud of Long-headed Poppy (Papaver dubium). Frome, 9 June 2021.

Lost on the road. Red daylight's

shafts on the grizzled fields

the blue seeds strewn in

the cereals' unspeaking 

ranks. What insubordination

could you expect? 

the ceaseless churning of oil

in baulked queues, the horizon

merely a mirror-wall, 

more towns more media outlets

more care homes more schooling

more authorized burning and looting

 

Flower of Long-headed Poppy (Papaver dubium). Frome, 9 June 2021.

You can rinse

you can rinse away

the innocent dust and grease

from your innocent skin

you can apply the pleasant products 

sourced from the plastic aisles

but how can you ever rinse

the grey pond within you

of its wet wipes razor blades

its fatted knots its sunken fears

the everyday hates of the DJs or the 

myths passsed on by the mythbusters

Young fruit of Long-headed Poppy (Papaver dubium). Frome, 9 June 2021.

The next day I came to the next town

I witnessed the same crowds of different people

moving around the same cafes and bars

automatic wheat and sugar, everything's OK

The still heavens and the hoarse loquacious crows

the child gangs hoeing through their acres of on-screen data

and on the benches by the river

the same drinkers, the same cursing Cassandra

Leaves and stem of Long-headed Poppy (Papaver dubium). Frome, 9 June 2021.

[Europe and North Africa. More or less throughout British Isles: sometimes considered an archaeophyte but Stace says "probably native". Fairly common in the south of Sweden, also Öland and Gotland. 

The Swedish name is Rågvallmo ("Rye Poppy"). I suppose it means that this poppy is a contaminant of rye crops. I wouldn't know: I've never seen a field of rye. In the British Isles, it's grown only in tiny quantities. Even in the great traditional rye regions running east from Germany, the total rye production has actually reduced in recent times. The reason, I suppose, is people switching their allegiance to wheat: to cakes and pizzas and croissants and biscuits and pies and pasta and all the other foods in which wheat is used as a silent thickener. Wheat's ability to meld with sugar and (especially) to spongily absorb and convey large quantities of fat into the mouth, makes it highly addictive and the perfect choice for an overweight, sedentary lifestyle.]