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This poem is taken from PN Review 263, Volume 48 Number 3, January - February 2022.

See Also and other poems Amy Acre

The 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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