Jubilee Poem



The First Taste of Freedom

For background there’s unbroken blue sky
draped with red, white and blue bunting.
A trestle table stretches the length
of the cul-de-sac, which is unusual,

but somehow fits in with the adults
hobbling, legs tied, on the playing field.
We’re all suntanned and freckled,
except Jeffrey, who’s darker,

and whose parents have stayed at home.
We haven’t even heard of heavy traffic,
but we know the rest of the world
is celebrating the Jubilee.

He takes a piece of cake out of the flag,
chews it, and pretends to be sick.
Someone’s mum shouts, Don’t do that!
He splurts, It tastes of shit, the Union Jack.


From 'Waiting for the Sky to Fall', Waterloo Press, 2010.


©2012 Dan Wyke

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