Under The Skin (The Death Of Marat) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Maratlies dead in a bath of oatmeal
His head swathed in a turban soaked in vinegar

There is no trace of the victim's imperfections,
Moral or physical. He is painted as a martyr

No sign of the open sores, the burning blisters
The marks of syphilis/scrofula/scabies/leprosy
Atopic eczema /dermatitis or psoriasis.
His weeping skin is canonized, mythologised

He is made pure by the artist's skill,
Propaganda of the paint, the airbrushing eye

In Britain, laws are passed
To limit the refugee crisis

Will the fleeing French bring anarchy?
Will their blood lust overturn the status quo?

Pull up the drawbridge
Block the loopholes
Terror gets under the skin