Friday poem: 'There is nothing wrong with my sister'
By Lorraine Mariner
After you told my sister
that there was no one else
but you no longer wanted her,
she went to bed and tried to work out
what she had done
and what was wrong with her
and spent the night awake.
There is nothing wrong with my sister
but may there be something wrong
with the Ikea wardrobe
she helped you to build,
so that tonight it falls apart
and wakes you
from your unaccompanied sleep.
From Lorraine Mariner's Furniture.
'When words fail us, the poets step up. That we need poetry now more than ever hardly needs saying, and without you to read it, share it, spread its word – poetry cannot do its work.'
Don Paterson, Publisher, Picador Poetry
>>>Read Don on celebrating two decades of Picador Poetry
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