The Woman In The Wetsuit

“You have to give yourself to something”

the spinster’s father said

So she with Latin tongue in 1533

disputed the angels with her father’s king,

till later the king had her father’s head

But that was before democracy


The king thought on occasion

of the chancellor’s project:

the sirred and sainted More’s

most talented Margaret

And how like in age and wit

she was to Anne Boleyn

(the current charming corpse-to-be

with whom he shared his bed)

Yet still untouched, his cruel heart took

now a second head

But that was how it went before democracy


Kings are counted low among the loving faithful

and truant blood will flow

in peasant veins, and trickle

along the unsuspecting

through the reigns;

And somewhere there’s a daughter

with a question upon her,

and nothing more to keep 

than a good law to honour

(The woman in the wetsuit

gave herself to the sea)

But this is the age of democracy