BREXIT – A Poem

Once I had finished it I didn’t understand my own poem,
so how could you?

There had been a moment when, possessed by a sort of deftness, I had made choices
about matters such as line length

but now all that had left me. I was confused.
The intriguing question is what path led me
from that bewilderment to my present mode of address.

This is something which concerns you, so pay attention!

In a very true sense it is your curiosity,
which led me, like an umbilical threadworm,
out of the labyrinth. And here we both are,
blinking in the sunlight, a bit traumatised perhaps,
attracting too many flies for our mutual liking,
but here nonetheless, in whatever space this is,
field or piazza, over which I am making this address,
dear Ariadne.

­_                      Never doubt, I will come back for you.
I see now what separates us is a slowly widening stretch
of crystalline water. These islands are lovely and puritanical.
They suit your beauty down to a T.

I’m sorry, have I made a mistake about your name?
Is this, strictly speaking, European soil?
Anyway, I must be off.

Wait for me!

Alex Winter practised for many years as a barrister and now works in the field of psychotherapy.

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