So long then Mary Seacole,
your face is now paling,
the plates are pixelated,
your image needs upgrading.
You’ll go no more a-healing,
those hands all cracked and chapped
bleed too dark a colour
so we’re sending you back.
Adieu Ignatius Sancho,
close your shopdoor behind you
and hither to that slave ship
where famous friends can’t find you.
Dr Johnson’s dictionary
with its definitions and lists
contains nothing to describe
all the beauty we’ll have missed.
Take care then Evelyn Dove,
farewell Fanny Eaton,
your legacies buried ‘neath
a sullen empire still retreating.
And farewell to new flavours,
new voices and new dress.
As the drawbridge pulls up one last time,
hello to loneliness.
---
Harry Gallagher
has previously been published by The Interpreter's House, IRON Press, Prole,
Smokestack and many others. His collection 'Northern Lights' was published in
Autumn 2017 by Stairwell Books and he has an impending new joint collection
from Black Light Engine Room, entitled 'Running Parallel', co-authored with
p.a.morbid. Harry lives on the North East coast with a wife and small dog. www.harrygallagherpoet. wordpress.com
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