Dartford

Written by: Karen Deeks

Dartford
You sit as a grey silent rushing stream
Of concrete, metal, with grey marbled sky
Leaning undefinable towards the Payne's charcoal
Landscape
So relentlessly
Created by man's coarse fingers and mind

Were you ever
Mother nature's emerald green belt?
Which swooned around Londinium
As black ravens scour your barren ribs
To pluck the last few morsels of flesh

As thread bare conifers nearly scratch the sky
Whilst containers muted litter the landscape
And giant neutral windmills turn as propellers on a jet
Which never reach
Anywhere
But the eye

As your concrete snakes
Tunnels and fly-over
Roundabouts here and there
Lit by splashes of
Red
Green
Amber
As emergency blue
Screams in my rear view
Mirror
Just follow the White line that pushes past this place
Of just passing
Dartford
Just on the outskirts of London