a one hundred and twenty second poem ... 'owen smith rally'

Owen Smith surveyed the crowd…

Not a bad turn out

He thought to himself,

Faintly proud.

Not many women, no,

But a couple of truant school

Children, a stray goat;

Comrade Stan, who he’d paid

To attend, giveaway free

Ice-cream... his ice-cream van,

A man with no less zeal

Fixing a puncture on the rear

Wheel  

– though perhaps not entirely there

On his own volition… 

Some local

Press, a retired paediatrician,

Well at least one local

Press, 

Owen guessed,

And then a dosed up
ex-Pfizer colleague,
Face twisted

In some kind of

Unfathomable distress.