waylaid

In Wells Cathedral there's this ancient clock,
three parts time machine, one part zodiac.
Every fifteen minutes, knights on horseback
circle and joust, and for six hundred years

the same poor sucker riding counterways
has copped it full in the face with a lance.
To one side, some weird looking guy in a frock
back-heels a bell. Thus the quarter is struck.

It's empty in here, mostly. There's no God
to speak of – some bishops have said as much –
and five quid buys a person a new watch.
But even at night with the great doors locked

chimes sing out, and the sap who was knocked
comes cornering home wearing a new head.


Simon Armitage