“.. It’s like riding a huge ball
of almost unlimited energy.
The power is just unbelievable.”
– Chief Test Pilot, BAE Systems
Typhoons on test fly past
the church’s lofty spire,
where hawks hunt like angels
scrambled by a super-power;
to dispense their grisly
ex voto gifts – dismembered
vestiges of grass-snake
vole and bird – to the
good parish of St Walburge
and The Sacred Heart.
In an old sacrament like the
extraordinary Roman rite,
the hallowed ground below
converts this eucharist of death.
Survivors will flesh out
what’s left, the way a glove
maintains its wearer’s hand.
A wren’s bone girdle
in a knot of daisies,
the radius of a child’s wrist.
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