Alternate title – “An Ode to Roadworks”
A hole appeared from nowhere
the size of a cricket ball
Test match players denied
they sent a ball there
I watch out of a window
as vans pull up
and men in orange overalls
share a thermos – the first of many
they’re guarding the hole
Some say the hole – has the power of atlas
as it halts mighty juggernauts
travelling down the main road
Supermarket shelves – lie barren
Lorry drivers watch in despair
as men from the ministry
stand with umbrellas, motionless in rain
waiting for the magic machine – to fill the hole
And as tailbacks form – the rain fills the hole
and drivers diverted to diversions of a teacup
a place to rest the wheels
halted by the hole
So drivers slow down
and come to a stop
as transport café sausage barms
for luncheon they pop.
Travel decisions secondary
whilst people stand like horse
more important decisions here
onions and brown sauce ?
The Inkwell 
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