Poem For Jeremy Corbyn
(a parable of the signpost and the weathercock) The weathercock is varnished gilt, revolves in every wind. The signpost marks the road that mounts, the miles you left behind. You've walked so far, your breath is short, with jaded eyes you scan a wilderness of spin and spite to find an honest man. A paper storm infests your street, the words return to air. You pause, undress some walking suit and find there's nothing there. Without a wind, the puppets sag, the paper turns to dust. Yet still, you'll walk a thousand miles to find a man you trust. MERRYN WILLIAMS Merryn Williams lives in Oxford, was the founding editor of The Interpreter's House poetry magazine and is literary adviser to the Wilfred Owen Association. Her third collection of poems, The First Wife's Tale, was long-listed for the Welsh Book of the Year and a fourth is appearing from Shoestring Press at the end of this year. |