Orders

Ian Crockatt

Get your men to beat their shields.
The crowd will wheel and clot,
but this is no practised phalanx
following orders; more like
magnetised iron-filings,
or a finch-flock. Check out

that rod of a man
with two suns for his eyes
and hands like turtle doves — he's
the cause; forever
confounding the real
and speaking in riddles. Did he

once roll back the tide,
or conduct an electrical storm? Is that why
women tug at his clothes
and trust our heirs to his arms —
mine included? That kind
of abuse must be stopped.

Instruct your men
to be circumspect with the mob —
sheep can turn into wolves. Remember
they think he can save them
from themselves — that makes him
a dangerous man to cross.

Ideas and extravagant words dis-
order the mind — see, they swirl round him
like water and he walks
all over them like some brash God
"of love," my bitch-wife yelps. Inform your men
that I am particularly anxious

to nail this one myself.