Ceremony at 19:19

Moonlight milk and honey balm

Croham Hurst’s acred boughs.

Sacred beech, I approach, heavy browed,

with gift for the archbishop’s palm.


His Grace, at the bar, dishevelled

glasses, resplendent, resembling

ale keg, East German anarchist,

bon viveur, hedge, and cavalier,

proves himself a carefree dancer.


With ceremony of taper,

of mantled candles: tea lights, jarred;

also, saucered, ashtrayed, slated,

I created spark in the hearth.


Despite the distance; thumb and finger,

portent everywhere, nowhere, he appears –

wryneck, bittern – at 19:19;

pockets spilling papered scraps –

betting slip, banknote, bar tab, wraps

his coloured beads, keep keen steeplechasers.

For Mik, fuzz bass RIP

3 thoughts on “Ceremony at 19:19

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