the tipton jedi

at her terminal in the library
of a small, forgotten planet

she wonders who the others are
and how they made it here

when it closes, she walks to the stop
finds the 42 left a long, long time ago

sees the young girl chattering on her mobile
hair up, Princess sequinned on her T

the warrior monk striding to the bookie’s
firm hold on a can of Tysker and his staffie

and the delivery driver who steers his truck
through a hold-your-breath gap

as the school crossing lady parts afternoon
traffic with her lightsaber lollipop

he’s a heart-stopping whisker from disaster
grins, drops his payload, motors on

when the bus comes, she boards
for the far-off galaxy of West Brom

and a date with a man who claims
he’ll take her places, has a pal

who knows a Wookiee or two, gal
she stares through the bus window

passes the young lad as he downs another pint
tries to get his head around the news about his father

In the 2011 census, fifteen people in Tipton put their religion as ‘Jedi’.

This poem is taken from ‘Tipton Tales’, commissioned by Multistory and featuring work from ten Black Country poets.
You can buy it here.

Comments are closed.