Bluebirds Over

Your bed whiffs of miserable sex
[& urine’s drip-drip]/ I’ll shove you
away once your ill Queen is dead/

I am sailing to Sealand where our
border is an irregular confusion –
[there they don’t crave our House

of Windsor – Edward has no work
but earns nicely – lucky him]/ This
country stinks of supremacist talk

from unapologetic men & women/
Superior sneers are easy masks &
filter their words/ Dame V is dead

& white cliffs fall [with our weight
of greed] – bluebirds do not live on
these islands of myths & sung lies