|Change of View
As I turned to leave,
I heard behind my back the thuds
of my town being dismantled.
The first to be pulled down, as I later heard,
Ed’s corner store (“We’re open day and night”),
soon after that the Empire cinema
(double features, four cartoons), then
McCarthy’s butcher’s shop.
Interminable grindings, thumps and clanks
disturbed those left behind
as houses, schools, our village hall
were loaded on lorries,
and driven down highways
towards random locations.
When I came back,
our old Cathedral-of-the-glowing-wood
had been painted white and trundled off
to an open field, stood beside
a four-lane motorway. Open to the
elderly public most Saturday afternoons.
It has changed its views somewhat,
now looks uneasy like a displaced aunt
who has left behind her knitting,
but is trying hard to make the best of things.
If you have any comments on this poem, Diana Brodie would be
pleased to hear from you.