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Saturday, 25 September 2021


They’re panic buying poetry!

They stretch around the block. 

For Duffy, Heaney, Armitage

they queue around the clock. 

They’re set on buying Byron

and Neruda fuels their fire. 

They’ve got the hots for Walcott

and the zeal for Zephaniah. 

They’re panic buying poetry!

The shelves are running bare. 

They’re loading barrows by the tonne

with Donne and Keats and Clare. 

They’ve gone all hard for Hardy

and for Edgar Allan Poe. 

Cummings keeps them coming

and I don’t know when they’ll go. 

They’re panic buying poetry!

They’re stockin’ and they’re hoardin’. 

They’re barkin’ mad for Larkin 

and for W H Auden. 

For Dickinson and Rosen 

watch them clamour, hear them shout. 

They’re crackers for Baraka 

but the poetry’s run