Keeping an eye on the lemons

Attempting to extract a moral from an amphibian in his early poem, 'The Frog', Paul Muldoon contemplated squeezing it out of …

Attempting to extract a moral from an amphibian in his early poem, 'The Frog', Paul Muldoon contemplated squeezing it out of him "like a lemon sorbet".

Readers trying to make sense of his new libretto, Vera of Las Vegas, should keep an eye on the lemons. Blind Lemon Jefferson turns up a number of times in 'Immram', from Why Brownlee Left, and Vera begins with one "Taco" Bell singing a risquΘ number by another great Bluesman, Robert Johnson, about squeezing a lemon "till the juice runs down my leg".

The same Taco goes on to pronounce that 'Lemon', from U2's Zooropa album, is "total crap" before meeting the eponymous lapdancer, Vera Loman. Such is her appearance, dazzingly attractive in an androgynous way, that Taco and his friend, Dumdum, are at a loss to decide if she is a whorish "leman" or a "Low-man" in drag.

Taco and Dumdum are IRA men on the run, arriving in Las Vegas with Vera's friend, Doll, an officer with the Immigration and Naturalisation Service.

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Also in town are Trilby and Trench, two former MI5 men (or rather women, as we discover), who press a letter bomb on the unwitting Doll. Adding to the mystery is a series of references to other IRA men, including those from Muldoon's play, Six Honest Serving Men, whose deaths Taco and Dumdum may or may not have had something to do with.

Vera offers marriage to Taco to get the INS off his back, but while Dumdum slinks off with Doll, Taco is left alone and launches into what sounds like a confession, even though "we may have to wait until Judgment Day /before all is revealed".

Reviewing Muldoon's last libretto, Bandanna, one critic compared it to Louis MacNeice's radio play, The Black Tower, which would be all very well but for the fact that the play is called The Dark Tower and Black Tower is a distinctively bottled brand of white wine.

The critic was me, unfortunately. I plead intoxication. In the five years since it was written, Vera has matured into a delightful little vintage, and beats a glass of Black

David Wheatley is a poet and critic. His latest book, Misery Hill, is published by Gallery