(i)
Poetry festivals make me uncomfortable
Sit down quietly and look sensitive
The inner poets all quiet (but audible)
The audience taking but wanting to give
(ii)
All this poetry and yet
It's the ordinary speaks loudest to me
Old ladies in macs, so old and so bent
On continuing to do whatever it is they do
Until the end and then, who knows, beyond
I salute you
Julie Burchill, still ranting and sometimes tedious
But every now and then amazingly astute
Hiding here in the public library
I read you
Chatty, friendly, lively conductor on the
Empty, late, windswept Scotrail home
You make me smile so hard
I could love you
Some of those poetry grand occasions
Just bring back school and hunger pangs
A stomach rumbling around hallowed halls
I forget all that, whenever possible
© Rachel Fox 2006
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