Monumental Cover-Up

Speech heckled? Opposition jeers?
    Reporters relished such a rare display
Of catcalls quickly charmed to cheers
    The lobby's boo turned literary bouquet.
 
Yet, when the Press rang warning bells,
    With hints a skeleton might yield its tale,
He’d fly to country sports, long spells
    Out after pigeons on some farmer’s kale.

Peace came, protected in his hide
    And tweeds, both barriers to bile and barb,
Though since the seat’s incumbent died
    He's been exposed to all in different garb.

He stands bronze-clad now, turning green,
    A mark at which the spray-can might take aim
If not for, perched on him to preen,
    The town doves’ daily whitewash of his name.

Jerome Betts


If you have any comments on this poem, Jerome Betts would be pleased to hear from you.