Mayday Parade

Gawthorpe Maypole by Humphrey Bolton

Not New Orleans but we have transport links

to both the M1 and M62.

Not Mardi Gras — We keep the old Gods here

Up North: Fertility and workers’ rites.

The May Queen and her attendants hurtle

towards womanhood in bridesmaid dresses

teenage me sneered at stunted ambition;

this will be the best day of their whole lives.

Local MPs “invited to attend,”

the mayor struts like a Poundland JFK.

The maypole bought by public subscription

when the old one rotted from the inside.

Once banners read “We export to the world!”

now riding past the burnt out mill sits our

May Queen in made in China finery

Desolation reflected in young eyes.