The Tourist

To the tourist trespassing
Taking selfies on the stairs
During a fire safety
Evacuation drill:

Were you perhaps trying
To capture the moment
Before you were pushed
For documentary posterity?

Or were you born supplied
With a camera on a stick
Inserted somewhere sweaty?
Whichever; I hope

The gentle smack
Of an irate Fire Warden
To the back of your empty head
Rearranged your somewhat

Selfish priorities
Although I don’t doubt
We will receive your
Carelessly written complaint

Citing unfair treatment
In due course.
I do look forward to writing
An appropriate response.

Something to declare

They’re closing the borders
And checking for crime
We’ve signalled our orders –
Each kiosk; its sign
For twenty-one days
On the honour of those
Running far from the virus
No quarantine slows
Here’s the health of a nation
Held palmed in your hand
Shaking; quaking relations
That no one can stand
Find they’re no longer welcome
While terror’s abroad
Though the shape of their income
Is what we applaud
It’s a risk to our public
Unhealthy and pale
No banana republic
With goodies for sale
Will be bribing their way
Past the guards on the line
Who know only to say
“Gosh, yes, everything’s fine!”
Though you’re likely to bring
Things that may cost the Earth
Still we can’t let you in
More than our job is worth
As the siren is sounded
The gates clang at last
All asylum for hounded
A thing of the past
We suspect you of sheltering
Dangerous germs
So we’ll lock down the sweltering
Under our terms
No sex, please, we’re British
The same goes for fun
And in case you seem skittish
I’m holding this gun
With no end of compassion
Our hearts on our sleeve
We’ve resources to ration
So, kindly, just leave.