Member-only story
The Song of Ambulances
27. 22 June 2021
Their raucous cries sound of triumph and anxiety,
Like the gulls which flap and squawk around them,
Daring their wheels to grab the rubbish quickly.
I sighted one in the early morning, lights flashing.
No song because no need. The streets were empty.
It was very sinister. Ambulances in the day
Break out their wail and slide skilfully through
The mobs of traffic. Other cars respectfully
Make way as if the ambulance were a king
And the cars its subjects. Sometimes tears prick my eyes
For the sick person who has become special
But probably doesn’t enjoy the ride much.
*
Another wail answers and another and another.
The pandemic has come suddenly to Falmouth town
In the wake of the G7 meeting,
That super-spreader jamboree.
We must pay in lives
For the PM’s larking in the ocean at Carbis Bay.
Not for the first time,
We must pay in lives for the prime minister
And his chums.
***
Most of the superspreading was done by the police from all over the country, drafted in for security against protesters. The politicians were mainly safe in their hermetically-sealed rich-guy bubble.
