from Motivist Suite
for Michael
Egan
Freedom tosses her garland into the stormy sky
sun catches the wall plaster turns it
to sandpaper angled in sandy light at sundown
a jay jaywalks across the crazy paving
a halo could strangle a struggling saint
what chance the nymphs with pitchers on their heads
tangled in the tresses of the fountain’s willow?
the rough monument fingers the flag at half mast
*
This poem, part of a long suite written in 2011, came to mind last night with the defeat of Orban in Hungary. It also reminded me (the ‘sandy light’ etc.) of this photograph I took of a wall in Budapest. I used it before on this blog to dismember and unremember the death of Mararet Thatcher, but, it too, seems to have found a second ‘moment’ this morning.
Here is where that image was, with different texts of mine: Pages: Thatcher Dead.
