Mary Poppins

grey grey days
and grey women with sour ways
drab office sundries
and equipment that does not work
a long way from the park stretching
green and lush in the sun -

twisted inner limbs that one
and bitter blood makes her
crude and brash, overriding
arcs of destruction: nothing
grows here, nothing blooms

and the money and the brooding
all in and out - I arrived here
from Mars, a high dry place
with red earth watered
by a singing universe, the sun
strokes it with rainbow beams
unseen, feeds it deep in

I touched down, breathed
new air, and blinked at the
change that saw me
move and go - is this where
you want me now, I ask -

it must be
for here I am: blowing
papers and haphazard piles
clinging to fences and rust -
the willing bars -
up into air and
over the trees - Mary

Poppins landed here
in a stiff breeze

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