This poem is taken from Stand 239, 21(3) September - November 2023.
Two Poems
Callimachus Epigram 45
I sensed it on the Northern Line, panicked,
Ripped open a can. A seam began to smoulder
Under dead ashes. I’m not sure of anything.
Please don’t cuddle me. Subsidence begins
...
I sensed it on the Northern Line, panicked,
Ripped open a can. A seam began to smoulder
Under dead ashes. I’m not sure of anything.
Please don’t cuddle me. Subsidence begins
...
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