The Tour (poem)
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The Tour (poem)
The Tour
The majolica swan is a letdown. Though it’s true
that in the story, a bird tows the hero’s boat to shore,
in the wake of two lost wars this is not perhaps
the most effective myth to encourage
the flowering of a dominion’s symbols.
The creature selected is of key importance: it may be
embroidered in gold on red silk, onto chair covers and bedspreads;
centuries later its impact may be decisive, as much on
the takings of cheese shops and dairy-farms
as on ski-lift traffic in the Southern Alps.
The tour begins here. The website did not limit
the time spent in each room, but here we’re being
fobbed off with an audio-guide. The bed’s strangling tendrils,
the tapestry’s oppressive detail, you can almost feel
the gothic getting under our skin.
If we could choose between awe and slaughter,
we ought to banish war to paintings.
If, though, it’s between our mother and the woods,
whichever has less sympathy should be the one to raise us.
This is the Singers’ Hall, behind it the kitchen
complete with built-in stove and a special basin
for fish. Lastly, we exit the ill-conceived symbol
by way of the gift shop.
©Anna Bentley 2022 for the English translation