Life Is Like a Maypole
"life is like a maypole", I heard him say through the cell bars
I knew his voice, unmistakeable, rasping (like a corncrake)
in a midnight field
now I had entered his world, his maelstrom, his sweetmeat-coated
world of pain, now I the sport, (a gladiator) no less
my bruised hands and swollen eyes, grown from their sockets
with heat of the Roman sun
waited their turn to step in to glory (or oblivion) wanting not wife,
nor hearth nor fearless hand
(the door opened) Alchimedes stood with trident in hand
multi-coloured like a sorcerer's wand:
"take your place at the arena door", he croaked
I took my sword put on my armour and stood ready at the side,
while the gods were drenched with worship from the dancing band
twirling,twirling garlanded ribbons round and round, dancers in the sand
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