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25 July 2013updated 02 Feb 2015 4:09pm

“The Good Morrow”: a poem by Jack Underwood

By Jack Underwood

I’m not sure I remember what we did
before we LOVED. Were we gherkins bobbing
in our harmless jars, with vinegar and seeds?
Or were we stuffed in a tube of sleep for years?
Probably; but that kind of life is carbohydrate.
If I enjoyed anything then it was feeling FULL.

The rover is making dust-ladder tracks on Mars.
The Victorian sewers have been overhauled, widened.
And here we both are, up-and-dressed.
But it’s intimidating isn’t it
when cack-handed LOVE is at his console,
nuking all life beyond this tenuous room.
I’m going to rely heavily on you, out there.
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