Yes, it was archaic
Rolling a bike
In a three-inch slot
Up multiple flights
Of fake-stone steps;

The ceaseless slap
Of endless traffic
Passing from segment
To segment, thumping,
Thumping, thumping--

Gave the skeletal frame
A heart beat--
Menacing, urgent,
And climax no longer
A simple choice.

The Maas flickered
Rose and gold and gray--
The muted glimmer of
A haze-leached near-
White winter sun--

But the quadrangular
Monolith of the
Old Great Church
Pondered the Purpose
Of our Crossing.

01/08/2002

Posted on 01/08/2002
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes