roaring wind
sending litter down the street
last day of term
© Rachel Green December 2023
It doesn't matter that I was an artist
when the paintings are stacked in the loft
waiting to be disposed of.
It doesn't matter that I was a writer
when my novels are lost to digital memory
and no-one remembers my name.
It doesn't matter that I'm a person
when the pertinent point is transwomen
feared and reviled by society
It doesn't matter that I'm British
when the country has become the playground
of the Fascist bigots in government
It doesn't matter that I'm alive
when I'm not in the top one percent
who can change everything wrong
but won't.
© Rachel Green December 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment