The Sergemaker's Rebellion, Tiverton

It’s not the gold of the sun, the emerald grass,

nor russet hues of Devon earth

you seek, but serge.

Our labour lines the merchant’s purse,

the finery of France upon his back

our wool sacks are his plunder and his riches.

Wealth spills from his ship

its sails the wings of Chrysomallus

we, the workers, doomed like Phrixus

to die in these fields.

We peg our discontent to looms,

stamp our seals in blood,

from mud and pride, we bring

our right to fair dividends

as distant as the sacred grove

which housed the golden fleece.

You pray for order as

we fight for more than alms

as our reward. It is not for God

our hands are sullied.

About the poet

Emma Phillips is a poet, teacher and short fiction writer. She lives by the M5 in Devon, which sometimes lures her away in search of adventure. Her work has been placed in the Bath Flash Award, Graham Burchell Award, Frome Festival Short Story Competition and has appeared in publications such as Mslexia, Gone Lawn, and Riptide. Her debut flash collection Not Visiting the SS Great Britain is available from the Free Flash Fiction Bookshop, Sparks in Bristol, and Amazon. She is currently writer-in-residence at Tiverton Museum, where she can be found between the wool trade gallery and the stocks.