The Cathartic Nature Of Poetry

Everyone is focused on Saint Roley, who is weeping.

How can we cheer him up? whispers Tilly.

Un-drown his brother, says Terence.

Saint Roley overhears this and weeps even louder.

Krvee!

I know! says Terence. Arthur can make him a poem.

Why me? asks Arthur.

I'll make my own poem, says Saint Roley.

Great. He will make his own poem.

The team can relax. They stare out of the bus windows at vegetation, mountains and stones.

Two more hours to Riobamba.

Saint Roley has not made a poem before. He remembers the time Terence made one.

Terence had made it up quickly.

Saint Roley gathers his thoughts.

O my brother...

No that's far too direct.

He must come at it sideways.

A sensible strategy.

The poem unfolds itself as the bus rumbles over the mountainous roads.

When it is finished, he speaks it:

My Brother

I asked the Virgin the fate of my brother
She said what will you give me
O Saint Roley?
I offered her Sea Salt
She said how is it packaged
O Saint Roley?
I said it's not packaged at all at the moment
O Virgin of Quito,
She said I'll leave it to you
O Saint Roley.
I had to find Sweezus
But he was out drinking,
When Terence said to me
O Saint Roley
Sweezus will find me if I break off my claw
O Saint Roley.
He broke it off but Sweezus didn't come
So we both went inside
Terence and Saint Roley.
Gaius said what's the matter
How can I help you
O Saint Roley?
He gave us a sheet of his notepaper
Covered in frog notes
I wrapped up a few grains of Sea Salt
For the Virgin of Quito.
She thanked me and said
I have good news and bad news
Your brother is dead
O Saint Roley.

The end.

Oh, well done, Saint Roley, says Tilly.

That was so sad, says Lydia.

Mental, says Buzz.

Cathartic, says Gaius

He does look a lot better, says Simon.

Yeah, good one, says Sweezus. But what's that about the claw?

YOU DIDN'T COME says Terence. I ruined it for NOTHING.

How was that meant to work, little buddy? asks Sweezus.

He thought you had a connection, says Saint Roley. But you didn't.

You had an itchy finger, says Lydia. At the karaoke. Remember.

Shit yeah, says Sweezus. I thought it was a mozzie.