"in awe and reverence the awful thing: / they find the black box (Guántanamo red) / among gentians"
I lie in bed until The World at One, / why should my heart go off with an alarm?
Knuckled may lie this dark of earth. . .
"Yet how it waved, in coast’s late light. . . ."
"Thirty years later, in the Sheffield synagogue, / I saw you marry Norman, heard the strange sad chants".
From Virgil, the Aeneid, Book VI.
"A midwinter spring, of sorts, / the day you died. . ."
"They were my dad’s I tell him, recalling / how my father loved to savour a cigar after / a meal."
New voices join old friends in our selection of the best poems published in the New Statesman over the past 12 months.
"The ancient law: / the mass cannot be sung / without the wax".
“A cabbage white / bluster at the edge of sight.”
Whether it's tweeting about his enemies, or using his children as advisers, Donald J Trump is not a conventional president. We need a strong media to hold the new US president - and other world leaders - to account.
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