NaPoWriMo Day 18 - A clear head and a General Election

Is it a coincidence that my birthday weekend hangover has cleared and Theresa May's called a General Election?

Who knows.

I'm just grateful it's another day when the poem has written itself.

Excuse me, Mr Corbyn. Theresa’s on the phone.

Organic marrow in one hand

a thirst of social justice in the other

he smoothes down the breast of his cardigan

excuses himself from the meeting of UK cheese makers

and rises.

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