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Raft
Martin Figura
The winter bled no light and cursed
to darkness all of us. She purred
and yanked us from the tit. A thirst
so pure can nourish best the need
to stand on your two feet. Blessed
are the self-reliant, who laughed
into each coal-black face and yelled
O Margaret lead us to the raft.
A storm will claim the weakest first
and there are some who won’t be helped:
those frit and living in the past
those moribund and dunderheaded.
Boil it down to one square mile. Greed
is good, get on your bike and graft.
It’s hard to cycle in a flood
O Margaret lead us to the raft.
Sir Geoffrey Howe and anarchists
ran bleating down The Mall. She tried
her best, but Goldilocks had pissed
upon her chips. So teary-eyed
she’s driven out and gentrified
while on the steps a grey man coughed
what seemed to be formaldehyde.
O Margaret lead us to the raft.
Her memory so nearly wrecked
she sipped her final sleeping draught.
O let her creed be resurrected
O Margaret lead us to the raft.
Martin Figura is a poet, teacher, photographer, and Randy Newman fan - but mostly a poet. His show Whistle was shortlisted for the Ted Hughes Award for New Work in Poetry and his book Boring the Arse Off Young People is published by Nasty Little Press. This poem was written for a forthcoming ekphrastic publication by the painter Tom de Freston.
Well Versed is edited by Jody Porter.
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