May

from here
I can see a rave and a jingling bell

an early morning settling around the edges
of the car boot sale and the football match
knocking gently at the sides of the exhibition

soap in the bath
apple in the water butt
the church is a boat
nuzzled then blinkered into dock

sorry sorry sorry

_____

John Clare calls May
a happy dirty driving boy
   who whistles and cracks the whip
   who sings on account of the
   season
   but here the maidenliest star becomes glassy-
   eyed and keyed as a chamber pot
   begins to cry

small hands find their way under
and anger lands like layers of fingerprints building up around statements of
nationhood and conviction

May
a draped white horse
wearing the banners of foreign beliefs
clopote ca un bufon

______

The architects gossip like turrets
the towers part the nobility
the sculpted nobles encourage and festoon a community
through the consideration of flags

What would rejection of all this feel like?
A life of determined anti-synchrony
a season for your seasons
a horse with only fur

______
 

The argument could be made through a reading of the different parts, the leaves the dumb animals, the nobility between the trees and the consent of the stars

beyond the treetops the turrets peek like periscopes





the chimneys let out their song

______
 

Would it be public life? Watching the procession on May Day and waving at the banners for real real real life. My friends write about what their actions make them remember. Their procession is a pageant for the deaths of sex workers. A float for the racist murder of the women who run the massage parlour. Garlands for the working conditions that underpin everything. Forgive us this standing. Forgive us in strength. Unforgive if forgiving undoes sorrow. Do not unstep your step.

A grey horse a black horse a white horse
a horse made out of caramel. May shears mirth
from gravity time from money the nobles
from their whispering leaves

Mark the poem out in grease collected from the fleece
Shake a foot. Hang a dog’s leg. Sweep the banners clean
Adevărata viață adevărată.












Or would it be seasonal time
the gentle rotation of the diorama
and us standing
with our feet in the right position