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Piccadilly Line

A Poem by:

Eithne Cavanagh

Colourful Bar


Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.

Sshlunk... clunk... sshlunk

I am Jonah inside

a flatulent reptile.

I study ancestral maps

landscape of faces

each a citadel

Jamaica Connemara Pakistan.


            Piccadilly, Leicester Square

            long way to Kingston Town

            and he's never been there.


The reptile hisses and farts

shunting scions

from far flung latitudes.

All inhale the same foul air

scrambled humanity's

painful stress



            and I crave a cleansing

            rain, wet heather, the haunting call

            of grouse above Glencree.


... or even the melee of

Oxford Street.


Eithne Cavanagh
Copyright © 2002

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