LES WICKS

Local Hero

There’ve been too few explanations.
When I said there’s no easy answer
& tried to apply it
only the trees agreed.
I was hung from one upside down
the mob thought belief would rush to my head.

But that head has long been overcrowded
so I was then forced to watch the news
                                                                                                    battles raged over parking fines
                                                                                             our leaders did something criminal
                                                                                       & the public just giggled at the scamps.

Oil bubbles up
though temporarily obscured by leaflets.
Demagogues roar as celebrities write prescriptions.
Waters rise, they taste of like an ending
& that would be the certainty we wear.

But there’s a joy in all that somewhere,
so many worlds
I think I lost one.
Layers can’t be removed through self.
            Don’t trust anything you can’t massage,
                         let love only leave you further lost.
                                                                                     Death is rumoured to be contagious,
                                                                                     tears are not a pollutant.
                                                  Plant. Argue. Don’t rush.
                                                     Long walks by oneself
                                       are the primary exercise a spirit needs.

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Les Wicks has toured widely and seen publication in hundreds of different magazines, anthologies & newspapers. His 15th book of poetry is Belief (Flying Islands, 2019).