Tiresias takes the bus
The ink is still wet on this first draft – tweakings will follow ha ha.
Tiresias takes the bus
I am Tiresias,
deaf by design
sightless by choice
my blind-man cane
ensures a space
when I take the town bus.
I shudder
as from all sides
sparks from the pale fires
of others’ despairs
pepper me.
I dull my ears against
the quiet chorusing
of impotent rage
at poverty, sickness,
ageing and dying.
someone is coughing,
another, cursing.
a wailing child
implacable
resists his mother’s
soothing pleading.
her hollow tones cross
the void between us.
locked in vaults
behind her eyes
the crystal spheres
of her tears
are an open book
where I read her memory
of that happy day
when she, the dowdy one
that no man ever asked to dance,
(except one who took her
for a bare-back quickie
in a damp raw alley
and walked part-way home
sharing chips and curry)
was the bulging white dress princess.
that happy day when vows were made
and she believed, laughed, hoped,
cut the cake
and waltzed with her man
at the wedding ball.
her man?
the one who beats her senseless
weekends after pints of Stella
and might call Wednesdays at closing
if he fancies a fumble and
there’s nothing better on offer.
the one that brings a mouth
heavy with promises
to stir up the kids
but never shows up at birthday parties.
the bus stops
she busies off.
a sudden lightness
at her leaving.
then on my right
a silent sobbing.
Tiresias paints a raw picture of life’s miseries. Insight can be a real pain. Maybe it’s better to take a taxi sometimes, but then he’d find out what a shit job driving taxis is. 🙂
Excellent work though, I really like this. I can’t understand why you get so few comments.
Thanks, Well, I stick them up and there you go ha ha – I long had a want to write a poem about the special love women have for their babies – something men know little of and can only guess at (ours is probably ‘duty love’) and then Tiresias came to mind and offered a context 🙂