Here's one I wrote a couple of years ago, but have resurrected in light of the recent unveiling of the sculpture in rememberance of 7/7....

THE RELUCTANT SCULPTURE

Torn edges sparkle like wet sap in the summer sun,

Sequined edges to the red and blue fabric of the sculpture.

The pure symmetry of its’ form has been dispersed in abstract torture

Casting off its’ purpose with helpless distress.

Shards litter the grey street,

Fallen leaves from the broken branches of someone’s life

And their fluid drips unseen onto the red metal.

Beneath the wailing sirens a silence shrieks the stillness of death

As the headlights shine their last light.

The backs of seats stand empty,

Tombstones in the open skull of confusion

And the illusion is one of significance for this sculpture,

A hidden purpose to the metaphors

And random melodies of form

Splayed across the canvas of spent life.

There is no benevolent purpose,

No chivalrous quest to be unleashed by academic analysis…

That the bus is dead

Is all this sculpture said…

(For bus 26, 21.07.05)