sweet chariot, by Ruby McCann

I am not a silent poet

sneaking into the city      Prometheus

late again     and so close to Juneteenth

time stops      framing a lit up sky

not shunting burning coals

to Molls Myre      above Dixon Blazes

ancient master blacksmith’s      sit with Charles

and Margaret      fire-placed in perfect

swinging low clouds      like Gods


and Goddesses muse over theft     fuelling

fine fire and art      no cupids angels frolicking

or gossiping about who Jupiter’s off shagging

when you really need him      to be angry

as thunder      to bring rain


below in the shadows      a fiddling fiddler

offers flamed serenades    silent rhymes

of night and day cracking structures      snapping-hissing

popping sonatas      paid in grounded

capped coins on concrete      croons aromatic

fiery-smoking      haar-filling

blanketed-brassy-breathy tinny red notes

A Mother’s Sacrifice       wraps

itself around Glasgow mourning


and Scottish MSP’s refused to parlay

parliaments anti-democratic      jiggery-pokery

devolution walked out its metal on worlds stage

allying together      against rape clauses for…

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