Four Poems by Jeremy Wikeley

English Pastoral

You worry about the sheep
in this too-hot weather.
Are they getting enough to eat?
The grass so dry, almost heather…
They hide from the heat,
chins to the floor, huddled together.
You worry about the sheep.
Cheer up lambs. It gets better.

You worry about the grouse
on the top of the moor.
They think they’ll live forever!
Spinning through the air
like they don’t even care
or know what they’re up here for. . .
You worry about the grouse.
You wish they knew better.

Economics

Executives moan in the morning papers
that no one will take their money
and move halfway across the country
to assist in the exploitation of old people.

And perhaps they have a point, these people.
There is nothing left in those places
and no one should have to bankroll anyone
just to stay where they already are

which is only the place their grandparents
moved to in order to take the money
of businessmen who moaned in the morning papers
about farmers and other layabouts.

My Parsha, As Far As I Remember

involved two young men who had
some close association to the Temple
and each other. Brothers, possibly
sons of Aaron and if not of Aaron
(and if Aaron, where was the Temple?)
then another High Priest. Either way,
they made the mistake of entering
the Holy of Holies drunk and God,
in his fury, flamed them on the threshold.
Whether the drinking was the cause
of their arriving late for a pre-existing
sacrificial duty or whether they had
just wandered in off the street having
got tight elsewhere I couldn’t say.
Either way, the outcome was the same.
Lightning. The smell of burnt meat.

Even at the time the obvious lesson
was obvious. Nobody is too important
and only God makes a mess inside
his own home. Looking back, though,
it’s the smaller questions which loom
larger, more and yet more footnotes
welling up below the verse. Questions like:
how many times did this happen
before God finally lost his temper?
(That is, what are we being told about
the behaviour of Biblical elites?)
And — did the flame of heaven appear
from nowhere, or else sear a chunk
out of the roof on its way to earth?
Or was the room left open to the air?
And what would the Lord God have done
with an ordinary, lonely drunk?

Note: a parsha (Parashat HaShavua / פָּרָשַׁת הַשָּׁבוּעַ) is the weekly Torah portion read during Jewish services. Bar or Bat Mitzvahs, the Jewish coming-of-age ceremony, traditionally involve learning a certain portion — here, Leviticus 10 or thereabouts — and reading it to the congregation on the day of the celebration.

Another Time

Nobody wants to go back but let’s go back
all the same over the cowslip commons
choosing one path when the dog wants the other
and taking the other all the same across
roads where there are no cars though you stop
and look both ways all the same across
the football field where there are no games
and down to the station just as the place is
trapped in such a perfect light though
the notice boards expect no trains down
past the platform which holds no people
though the tannoy calls to them all the same
in its altered voice which you can’t recall
but can’t forget all the same as it thanks
the workers who are not there but thanks them
all the same for all they do to keep you safe.

Jeremy Wikeley is (still) working on a first collection. www.jeremywikeley.com