Friday, November 4, 2016

Robert Verdon, #349, postmodernism


my mother once made beds for a living

and before that she made shells in the Arsenal

afterwards she made babies and much later a

position in a library in the public service

hotels and munitions and pregnancy having

palled


my father went from orphanage to street kid to air

force to labourer to gardener to botanist

and once held the ladder for an old man who made stained glass


both were of the greatest generation


today the idea of progress is rightly held up to ridicule


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