would be the obvious title for this poem
but leave its content redundant - the joke
already made, the bolt shot (or the shake
thrown) and nobody really buying
a Kelis reference from a guy so not down
with the kids it hurts. Think instead
on the milkshake gagged at the behest
of Edinburgh’s finest: unsold, disallowed.
A clampdown, the far-right pissed
at the soft drink weapon-of-choice du jour:
used to be “bash the flash”, now it’s pour
a milky drink on the ugly suit of a racist.
So think on the milkshakes of Edinburgh
held back behind the thin blue line,
a D-notice in place lest they try to provide
a lactose antidote to the snake-oil peddler
mouthing off with the same old UKIP
drivel rebranded as a sop to Leave.
Imagine what one milkshake could achieve:
the arc, the hit, the spill, the drip, drip, drip.
© Neil Fulwood
Neil Fulwood
Neil lives and works in Nottingham. His first collection No Avoiding It is available from Shoestring Press; his second is scheduled for publication in 2019.
Neil lives and works in Nottingham. His first collection No Avoiding It is available from Shoestring Press; his second is scheduled for publication in 2019.
