POEM J Twm

NWR Issue 111

The Black Book


Chapter 3: Verses 1-9

1: in that place where i think, there are
swans, and in the dead of night their
cygnets are nailed flat to a ‘no guns’
sign. 2: as custom dictates an outcry
ensues, as people discuss how disgusted
they are and then they take lunch. 3:
there are witch hunts, petitions and a
vigil to come. but they don’t pray for
the cows in their cheeseburger buns. or
that mad bat in Ward Four who shoves

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J Twm is a poet from Neath. He has worked as a sociology lecturer but now owns a brewery.




       


previous poem: Unrepeatable World
next poem: Message in a Bottle Found at Tan-Y-Bwlch, Aberystwyth



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