A rumpled poem
doorstepped me
at 6am. It dogged me from my car
into my portakabin, brandishing a
microphone like a stiletto, shouting
Why are you conning your readers?
Are you a crook? Are you a poet?
at 6am. It dogged me from my car
into my portakabin, brandishing a
microphone like a stiletto, shouting
Why are you conning your readers?
Are you a crook? Are you a poet?

No comments:
Post a Comment