Poem 468

The problem of originality again … nothing against the London borough but where better to lead a hackneyed life …

( trammelled is a great word … )

Death Comes To Hackney

O god O god O god
screamed the man in the street
get these quote marks
away from my heart

death parenthesised him
with two crooked fingers
old lines
rattled out of his pockets

he died
as he lived
on the trammelled pavement
racking his brains
for something original