Crowded January
(Usque Ad Sanguinis effusionem)
Tally ho! Tally ho!
The lights go off
In California
As the misunderestimated
Succeeds to the White House throne,
Will it be Country and Western
Or a smart dress code (no jeans)
While gossipy papers prattle
Of a Kelly-like match
Of oldest and newest of dynasties.
In France the great white bird
Flies again (Phoenix-like)
Giving the rich less time
To worry about long haul flight
And promising the reality
Of globalization.
Thirty-seven new hats at St. Peters
For his will beyond the grave.
While Kumh Mela brings
Millions to bathe sin away
In the Holy Ganges.
And in Manila
Another woman is sworn in.
Did the same earth shiver
Rattle the black gold transporter
Threatening the unique Galapagos
As brought sliding devastation
To poor Ecuador, and death
In Western India?
As Africa reels and shudders,
(Remembers one year old moment
Of painful joy and travail in a tree)
Its forgotten troubles
Vy for our attention
With the new US regime.
Tug of love babies
And a blessed love-child
Is Sadaam muttering
Plotting the Shrub’s defeat?
Tally ho! Tally ho!
As its time
To say goodby
Where now
Do we Reid the peace process?
And the Black Santa
Is dead
(originally published in Cerberus)
The Gardener’s Wooden Leg
Did he lose a leg at Gallipoli
The Dardanelles, Ypres
The Somme or Paschendaele?
I have no way of knowing
All I know is
My sister is renowned
As a child
To have balanced
Breakfast elevenses
On an outstretched knee
In imitation of
The gardener’s sandwich
Perched on a war replaced
Wooden leg
Surprised by Robin
As he flits among low branches
Here on trees of the riverside walk
I am surprised by robin
As I feel him to be
Like a whisper from my sister
And I hear the crashing of the weir
Tune in to the spring’s singing of the birds,
It’s like she’s whispering
Take heart, spring is coming
Evening’s are stretching – soon
We’ll have the lambs
Gambolling in the fields,
Forget the sadness of those other springs
That swept weaker folks away
Spring is coming, take heart, have strength
Life is worth living, spring is on its way!
In the Midst of Life (We are in Death)
In the numbness of the unbelievable
Papers flutter like confetti in the wind
Prayers are unformed but felt
A throbbing pulse to heaven
“Dear God, may they rest in peace!
May they that died not have suffered
Let there be less, not more dead!”
Life is reborn to that awesome reality
“In the midst of life we are in death!”
A new reality for Americans, for whom
Terrorism has always been somewhere else
New York’s skyline horribly altered
American psyche never the same again.
