This poem is taken from PN Review 263, Volume 48 Number 3, January - February 2022.
See Also and other poemsThe Year of the Horse
after Giles Goodland
Twentysomethings geeked out over the World Wide Web
while polyamorous malware circled in hoodies.
Green-collar workers looked for a connection between hand gel
and transmissible spongiform encephalopathies.
Thatcher toppled like a graven image and I wrote a school news
report on her fall, gleefully dictated by my mum.
I met a large grey bear in a South London hospital. Microplastic
props accumulated in McMansions. Dad died.
The crime wave was high with muggings mysterious. Earth
waited for a shout-out from air formerly known as wall.
I would have given anything for a stick blender, or a soundbar,
or a black hat, or a lithium-ion battery.
Fine Music
the rabbi’s daughter let me try on her swimsuit
...
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