Alchemisland

Broad banners dangling like a gin-zonked aunt’s hair

Spilling over a couch arm after a festive family affair

Rafters hidden behind plaster versions of the works of old masters

Many masons happen to be in attendance, attendants await patiently

Their need, sickly sleek obeisance, carrying gin-laden trays

To lined mavens and ladies in waiting

Men from the naval office; cravens

Who raved like slavedrivers back at base, chained to desks

In and out trays, offices mazes of hazy communications, papers

Dockets receipts booklets about rockets and how to think properly

Memos re: not leaving dirty cups in the sink

Around the office, as cleaners are not ones’ mothers

Era’s end cheers all around, good innings all told

Don’t cry old boy but, should you feel the need to, nuzzle my shoulder

I will hold you until it is over, let your tears flow, your world is over

Your ways are old and now, finally, outmoded, time comes to go.