Stonehenge
Sheep-field ambassador of ancient moon-clad dances;
Of dark hooded magic
Of all that lived before, beneath, beyond
10,000 Solstices
Is closed today. For real.
Mighty megaliths shamed into drag
Silent cartoon princesses
Wrapping my Druid heart in safety yellow ribbons like a crime scene.
So bring on the river-night where that tower in Paris tarts up in showgirl chic
Glittering on demand like herpes on a world tour
Residue
All that gold is not
And gold is certainly not Giza,
nor any of the great hollow shells abandoned along the banks of the crocodile-Nile
Face up and slack jawed
Fortified with dark-eyed Egyptians
Children wearing Uzis for beauty queen banners but have no socks inside their big-boy shoes
As the real Sphinx bobs
A bemused buoy
Over a well-paved seas of flaxen Nordic heads
Cameras gulping like hungry gulls
Open 24 hours for your convenience.
