Jacob's Ladder

Debating in a Small Aeroplane Garden Jacob's ladder soars from bins and shop-fronts. Masonic angels wearing bovver boots Working the day shift, clip the beanstalk trellis That hugs the sides of misty steps, Dusted by night squad angels' dusky wings. Such a ladder (a spiritual Forth Road Bridge In constant need of repair) Symbolically ferries Storybook Giants, Jacks, Knaves, Aces, Kings, Discarded heroes, Mourned (and unmourned) lovers, And penguins who ascend its heights with hoists. This tower of fable This Babel of to-ings and fro-ings Doesn't teeter like Pisa, No Rapunzel's hair hangs from it. What's there? What's up at the ladder top? Iron-shuttered bookies? Urban terrorists masking pots of tea? A tiger picking its teeth with a pheasant's feather? What's the climate like? Is the weather fair or stormy? Is there a Fast Food Palace serving loaves and fishes? Are there security angels to oust intruders, Illegal imps and demon asylum seekers? The ladder is ancient. At its rickety feet Dragons and skinheads sleep, Palaces tumble, myths abandoned weep.