a young woman
is walking
along the towpath
of an earthly canal
at one of its locks
something in the sky
catches her inquisitive eye
It stops her in her tracks
an object up there
reminds her of those
faked-up photos
of flying saucers
which somehow she knew
were such a craze
back in the 50s
she remembers
on her granddad’s bookshelf
a title called
‘Flying saucers have landed’
she’d looked at its pics
which resembled saucepan lids
she owned a frisbee
which also fitted the bill
flying saucers were unfashionable
by the time she was
in her teens and sceptical
not just about UFOs
but all hocus pocus
conspiracy theories
unfounded optimism
and malarkey in general
in time
she equated malarkey with
politics
fake news
shysters
chancers
snake-oil merchants
narcissists
and above all
Heads of State
meantime
the flying saucepan lid
was still visible
she imagined the blurred pics
which might make the media
all those viewers and readers
willing to believe anything
willing to find confirmation
in photos like those
of the Lochness Monster
which always predictably
lack definition
she realised at last
she was prone
to drone on a bit herself
and was brought up short
a drone!
that’s probably it
no UFO saucepan lid
but a drone
high flying flying high
her dad had once declared
you’re Emma Goldman incarnate
nah nah never never never
I’m just me me me
she’d stated in reply
like Walt Whitman
i’ve learned to
resist much and obey little
she looks up
at the heavens again
the pie in the sky
had disappeared
as she always knew
it would
if I can’t dance to it it’s not my revolution
Emma Goldman
.
Jeff Cloves
.