The Stirrups Of Genghis Khan  

A decapitated road sign
Spears the yellow verge,

Meaningless as a symbol
Of progress. A vain strut.

The bus driver’s hands are folded
As the stop approaches.

From the fields,
An algorithm of hooves enters the ears

Of yawning school children.
More is known than ever before.

The day doubles over, winded
And as language must

Death moves
A little off, as if uncertain.

Mike Duggan is a fifty year old poet from London. His work has appeared over time in The Rialto, Magma, Tears In The Fence and Perverse. He has a new poem forthcoming in The Rialto 104 and his pamphlet Masquerade was recently shortlisted by the Dithering Chaps press.