The day of my burial, like an injured magpie,
she will flap onstage to Dancing Queen,

Opportunity spelt out in large letters
behind her, in Comic Sans, onscreen.

Some, grudging, will laud her, throw flowers
while she attempts a Paso Doble on my grave:

A difficult woman, they will say
Obstinate but brave. Deadpan, they’ll be.

Some might enquire of her elbows,
distracted by the swing of them,

while in the background she intones
something about a deal, her voice droning.

That mean judge from Strickly! will raise up
his card. Nil points, he’ll giggle.

The crowd, will applaud, how they’ll howl!
 We all love a spectacle.

And no one will remember why
we’re dressed in black.

Thinking about how so much is slipping by without public scrutiny, this is a poem with “a good day to bury bad news” in mind because everyone’s focused on exiting the EU. And then we saw the Prime Minister dancing and forgot what we were supposed to be saying. My book Selah is published by Burning Eye.

Poetry on the Picket Line is a squad of like-minded poets putting themselves about to read their work on picket lines, in the spirit of solidarity. Invitations to rallies etc welcome, contact facebook.com/p/PicketLinePoets. The new Poetry on the Picket Line anthology is available at culturematters.org.uk