A new poem by Craig Raine

I was playing badminton with Harold Pinter

When by the side of the court

I saw her


Wearing clothes and stuff

With her hair

And her face

And her body

And her legs

And those shoes

With those bits on, like in that poem

And I thought

“how’s about it, darling?

I’m a poet, I am.

Doing clever wordplay in the poems and all that, like.


I’m a cunning linguist”

But I said nothing

But thought I’d go home

And write a poem

About loveandgarbage

I watch the telly and read when not doing law stuff and plugging my decade and a half old unwatched Edinburgh fringe show.
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