Poetry

Toledo Tournament

Graeme Hetherington

From on the mediaeval wall
Above the river, unsure if
What’s glinting, floating broken up,
Is ice, or something man-made, we

Observe new-age knights speeding round
The corners leading to the bridge
At either end. Their vizors down,
Steeds gleaming, pennons flying taut,

Steel kneecaps sparking, plastic gear
Puffed out and buckling as though they,
Despite no lances, will still be
Unhorsed, we share a knowing look.