Another thing from 52

(No, I am not turning into a poet… don't even think these are real poyems… but they are fun. This one looks into my name. There is a place in Somerset called 'Bruton'. I visited it once. Almost missed it, the sign obscured by hedgerows and the place so small. This is about that brief stop.)

MY NAME IS BRUTON

My name is from a place

far from me and today near

a place that was tall

in important once

a mint under Aethelred

who is called ‘Unready’

and I expected more

than a sleepy street

and a thrown bridge

over untroubled water

And I stopped

to spend a penny only

but the public toilet

was filled with smoke

billowing grey

and a red-faced man

dressed younger than he was

asked if I’d seen ‘em

bastards, he said,

and fuckin bastards

And they’d set the

toilet-paper banner aflame

when he was on the throne

and I hadn’t seen them

and I wanted to tell

my name, and drop it

from the bridge

into the innocent stream

and be the smallest part
of this sometime somewhere.