The Passenger
Via hand to hand
and hand to mouth,
they pass a line
invisible.
Via blast of air, puff of smoke,
handshake, warm embrace,
the tourist shares a secret,
without telling us.
Via soft-soled tread in airport
lounge, ferry port, border post,
rail, motorway or bus,
the passenger touches our heart.
ring-a-ring-a roses,
pockets full of white masks
atishoo, atishoo,
we all hide our faces
to all fall-down.
Via child, mother, sister, brother,
incubus, friend or father,
the traveller rings our chests
with the tightest kiss.
Via all we know and trust
in laughter, song or hiccough,
the guest learns our etiquette,
always homeless, moving on.
Via FEDEX, registered post, touchpad,
keyboard, phone, licked envelope,
the wanderer talks in tongues
we can’t know till late, so late.
ring-a-ring-a roses,
pockets full of white masks
atishoo, atishoo,
we all hide our faces
to all fall-down.
Ken Evans published his first collection, called True Forensics , last October, and a pamphlet called The Opposite of Defeat in 2016. He has won the Kent & Sussex Competition 2018, Battered Moons and the Leeds Peace Prize.