2nd February 2026

 

airport run

across the Yorkshire moors

morning fog

© Rachel Green February 2026

Thou canst barely keep thine eyes from closing

And yet thou chooseth not to sleep this day

For on the steel rails thou were’t dozing:

Almost lost thy work for lack of save.

Then Anxiousness did show its ugly face

In light of all the words that might have gone

Down to the hell reserved for author’s waste

Whence to dwell eternally, undone.

And now the numpty that thou seems to be

Hath left thy laptop charger on thy desk

At home and let the fucker die before thee

See those disassembled lines redressed.

Now all of France be scoured for laptop docking

While angels whirl above are gently mocking.

© Rachel Green February 2026