The Old Days
Remember when everyone on earth
was pregnant except for you
which was a miracle
and the babies jangled down on their cords
like oxygen masks during unplanned
cabin decompression
and all language was lost to the cutesy voice.
Woo are so wucky, everyone explained
while you adopted
the brace position, amazed at the serenity
that comes from looking after
yourself.
Houseguests
As a privilege
of my nearly hairless body
I invite ancient men to my bed.
We sleep top-tails
but sometimes spoons.
I make them keep their World War I coats on.
They whisper
about camp latrines, executions
at dawn, the smell beneath their bandages.
They only perk up
when I interpret their dreams
which are always fiendishly literal.
Send Letters To:
The Editor
London Review of Books,
28 Little Russell Street
London, WC1A 2HN
letters@lrb.co.uk
Please include name, address, and a telephone number.
