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The Polar Ice Cap

What If There Was No Tomorrow? - The Polar Ice ‘Cap’

- this time it’s burnt and curled upon a new head. The 
sweet smoke of his sugarloaf effigy black as night, 
surrounded by a material red trim, below Parliament houses 
blows political greed into fiery smouldering smithereens –

then it floated and landed after years, drifting, onto 
the crown of a man: a business man portraying 
wealth and class; here it sat above suit and below sun. The
American dream swirled with scotch and the tip of a bowler,

only for the same piece (restyled of coursed) to later sell for
pounds to make the pupils of any impoverished person pop:
his Hamburg with a knowing dent in back, how it span and 
spun from black to grey and back again around Hill’s peak

to be dyed again and tilted just so. Now it’s pillbox pink and a knitted 
O of a name/shape-sake that covers her head where her husband 
had a target upon his. Watermelon-pink colour dye actually: the very 
same fruit palette of brain cradled in her hands at high speed. 
This latest star attraction of Burgdorf’s no doubt was, decades

prior, nothing but a mix of lifeless green and sludge brown from
grass and cud - metallic dead daises ducking over No Man’s 
Land. A Brodie: styled on a not-yet-pulled pin grenade atop
beads of sparkling sweat, dripping slipping salt where  now 
a pedal controlled sewing machine stabs and pins sequins into

veils that hide brides with (it must be said) the same success 
that protected Fawkes’ Plot or Churchill’s reputation or
Jackie’s husband and the slaughtered soldiers’ skulls - but 

still the accessories twist into fascinators fancy enough for 
mothers to weep below, only to find the box dish or bow 
to be knocked akilter during the traditional bouquet mad 

dash - then up – up – up! into the air before landing anew, 
refreshed as a Gatsby or Hijab, perhaps a Trilby or Zucchetto;

better yet, the Boater or Sailor we’ll need when the hat that covers
all our heads smoulders and peaks when next dented and melted: a
loose grenade we can’t be veiled from, nor refashioned nor restyled 

when the next season’s must have
will be a copper and bolt
protective Diving Mask 
for the drowning tomorrow

from The Polar Ice 'Cap'.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

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Date: 8/24/2019 10:29:00 PM
Congratulations on your win in the contest. Hugs Eve
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Date: 8/24/2019 1:23:00 PM
- A deep and interesting poem, Thomas - Congratulations on your win - // Anne-Lise :)
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Date: 8/24/2019 11:32:00 AM
very deep and dark, great one congrats ;)-luloo
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Date: 8/24/2019 4:14:00 AM
a very intelligent take on the contest Thomas.. Congratulations on your placement in the contest..
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