~~Eastnor Castle Easter Monday

The bluebells, he decides, are a slide made of sky
lying over the hill where I’d like to decline
his interrogation fired ad infinitum
until all the eggs have been counted and eaten.
The Question-Master needs instant answers
and a database big as The Bible.
The family might call it repartee -
for me it’s a case of survival.

Dandelions can be yellow or white;
they’re like you and me: one so much in the face
that he stings the eye, one barely giving
the time of day. We’re going there and back
to see how far it is. These high tunnels
are The Knight’s Maze and if we’d stuck to the left 
and you’d not run ahead then we wouldn’t be lost;
helicopters find us even in the dark.

Butterflies can travel wherever they want -
Africa, China or New Zealand.
The knights fight their battles when we’ve all gone home:
those hollow shells hanging are filled with limbs
that arm themselves with swords and shields
and clink and clank and tumble down the wide stairway.
From The Red Room to The Gothic, the walls are spotted
with blood and gore and the cleaners come in early. 

Yes, Jesus was just an ordinary man;
he said he’d bring a sword but he didn’t.
That table’s not where the disciples had supper;
he did kiss him but he wasn’t gay;
there weren’t any pilots or planes back then.
Our bodies make pictures on the grass
so the multi-coloured dog with two legs at the front
can hide in them from the sun.
 
Your mother might think that I joke and tease
but there really is a dungeon down there
and I just might throw you in it.
Your dad goes into hospital the day the prince
gets married; his bones will be broken, his heart
mended and we’ll live happily ever after.
I told you not to put all your eggs in one basket
and look what you’ve gone and done!