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This poem is taken from PN Review 269, Volume 49 Number 3, January - February 2023.

Song of Myself Craig Raine
Every holly bush a campsite:
every leaf a pegged-out tent.

After the getting laid,
after the awkward leg-over,

the faint, fine kiss
of snooker balls.

The chrysalis coming out
as a drag queen.

Three things I dreamt.
Am I me in my sleep?

The poet Elizabeth Bartlett,
who worked in the NHS,

told me tartly in 1979,
after I rejected her poems,

with a kind letter,
that I had a medical condition,

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