“According to Greek legend, ordinary, unheroic souls pass the afterlife in the fields of asphodel.” So runs the footnote to Helen Dunmore’s poem in her latest collection, Inside the Wave (Bloodaxe  Books, £9.95).

 

THE PLACE OF ORDINARY SOULS

 

In such meadows the days pass

Without shadow, unremarkable.

On time, the bus pants at its halt,

Passengers peel their thighs

From hot vinyl, and step down.

~

Swift-heeled Achilles strides

Through the fields of asphodel

Flanked by heroes and warriors

Who have left their mark on the earth

And want nothing to do with us.

~

With impatient glance at the starry fields

And kit on their backs, they’re gone

Route-marching to Elysium

Where the gods are at home.

We are glad to see the back of them.

~

In the fields of asphodel we dawdle

Towards the rumour of a beauty spot

Which turns out to be shut.

No matter. Why not get out the picnic

And see if the tea’s still hot?

~

The bus shuttles all day long

With its cargo of ordinary souls.

We lie on our backs, eyes closed,

Dreaming of nothing while clouds pass.