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Poetry Library Southbank Centre - The Poetry Library housing the Arts Council Collection at Southbank Centre

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Alf Bishop

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Disgraced

Sunfalls, leaving her trunk white
red and a natural blue
ossifying, her crocodile feet
are frail and frightening
       ash powder from her hair
                                makes you sneeze

Her composure    tradition    pride
bred-in and fixed by centuries
are now held against her as weapons

      Ghosts visit
      to ignore her

Once a mannikin for Britannia
and followed by everyone else
she lectures about the past -
her husband who was fed
                  by his own request
to his favourite hunting hounds
remembrances of warm continental evenings
tours of southern Europe
                                           and a rose garden
with an established pebble path
                             which was not a hobby
                             but a serious distraction
a last claim to possess land and spirit
but memory is a barracuda
so here the loathing starts
her tooth, pathetic, mangles everybody

Later, Lady Wendy serves ice-tea
(to delight is such a thrill)

Cover her with classical lace
she who was once firm, juicy, peachy
with blonde, thin, ridiculous children
(though her daughters flourish in their ruin)
        delicate people for derelict times.

 

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