Sweep Spring Poem by Stug Jordan

When all the mums sweep spring
From the doorsteps they let the boys
Loose on the summer,
A megalomania of new hair and teeth,
A small force of advanced height and attitudes.

And the girls get caught up in it and are flung
Into the park like butterflies following bees,
Watching who kicks a ball the hardest,
Woodworks hammered, those new netless
Goals they put up now.

And the mums can’t contain the nest
Long enough and are forced out on the end
Of the toddling blaze of big babies,
Muck-dummies and blank blue eyes
Chasing the dive and thud

Of the distant balls that glide like wingless
Shuttlecocks over summer’s playingfield.
But the community soon dissolves in calls
For ‘Tea! ’ – and the boys disperse with a lank gob
Like the fortune of a future England squad.