Weekly poem

Three Milk Bottles for the Embassy to the Sultanate of Oman

Every morning, coming out of the ground

Amidst the rush of nigh-colliding bodies,

To meet the trivial daily run

Of spectral insufficiencies,

At a brisklike pace, that looks so full of purpose,

My mind, though, will meander through the greyness,

As, walking past the embassies I notice

A Merc that’s marked "ET" - quaint numberplates -

Or as I cross the road, so circumspect,

Three bottles of white milk, there on a sill

Of stone, next to a pillar made of stone -

The lifelessness intrigues me. What’s therein,

Concealed within the dull, beige, mortared bricks?

Whose is this solitary sign of life:

Three bottles of white milk? - Strange reverie...

Beyond the embassy, the sultanate,

I trudge on like the rest, into the wheel.

Iannis Deschamps

PoetIC is the creative writing society of Imperial College, and we are always happy to greet new members. If you would like to find out more about PoetIC, or are interested in attending our weekly meetings, contact Keith McNulty on ext 58610 or via k.mcnulty@ic.ac.uk