Brexit Sonnet No. 102 – ‘Five Percent’

Our five percentage border waits in dread,
We’re almost there or so we’ve now been told.
Our five percentage border to Brexit wed,
It can’t be squared – with ‘Leave’ so falsely sold.
Our five percentage border now sits tight,
It’s not cross, not sore, nor moving very fast.
Our five percentage border wants what’s right,
For goods, for folk and cars to freely pass.
Our five percentage border cracks a smile,
It laughs as if some filthy joke’s been heard.
Our five percentage border moves not one mile,
Whilst red lines look now so very blurred.
This royal five percent, this sceptred isle,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this Ireland.

©Keith Murphy