Interned

April 4, 2008

My parents are interned
on a cruise ship at Madeira –
I heard it on the radio,
sitting on the sofa:

“You’re parents are interned
in their cruise ship at Maderia –
they won’t be coming home
as prearranged to meet you”

and it’s just the sort of thing
that I’d expect to happen.
My parents with their tans,
bemuda shorts and glasses –

my father saying “Margaret!
We never should have come here”
my mother saying “Paul!
perhaps we should call Watchdog –

we might end up in jail!
or in a refugee camp –
we’ll never live it down
with the neighbours back in Ratby.”

My parents are interned
in a cruise ship in Madeira
I heard it on the radio,
sitting on the sofa:

The operator running,
the ship Van Gogh the Second
has failed to pay it’s debts
and is entrenched in battle.

And I can see my mother
loving every minute,
ringing out the drama
like an episode of Neighbours –

so I’m almost sorry later,
when they get back reception –
and my father texts a message
to say their out of “danger” –

that even as he types this
the ship is leaving habour
and they’ll be back in Falmouth
sometime late this Sunday.

My parent’s were interned
on a cruise ship at Madeira –
but all tonight’s a party
and all the drinks are grattis.

My parents type out screens
of happy reassurance –
their sea legs are quite solid
and their souvenirs are lovely.

But I worry for their epic
of Odyssey adventure,
I worry for the bungalow
waiting back in Leicester.

I worry how they’ll cope
without the smell of sunlight –
the salty spray on linen
the deck-chairs and the boardwalks.

I worry now the sun
is setting on Madeira
and now the ship is edging
close across the water –

I worry like they’re zebras
returning from adventures –
Noah’s distant cargo
coming back to rest up –

How they’ll find their home.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: