Baby, it’s cold outside


it’s cold outside

damaged and diminished
no longer great but grating
gritting grinding worn-out teeth
stamp collection of small islands
seeking annihilation

no longer a leopard or a lion
a cat’s paw of wind
drifting a rudderless craft
without captain or sails
crew abandoning ship

Britannia ruling no waves
making waves in land-locked lands
billows of bitterness
filled with sweet nothings
torn from a long-lost love

a disunited kingdom now
untied not united
its shipwreck revealed
verbal Freudian slip
so many between cup and lip

lemmings at cliff edge
no blue birds over
white faces frowning down
denying anonymity’s oblivion
old lady of Threadneedle

a wheel-chaired cripple
stay-cationing in the Caymans
stooping to conquer
a hollow centre that won’t hold
though she can’t stand up straight

Tug Turmoil towing
drifting and shiftless
a common weal of festering
failures and faithless
flying enterprises