The Assembled The usual suspects from the English Department Assemble, Levitically, as romantic as Monday morning. Late, crusty defensive years and ears hear Sunny but arid words. Brynmor evenings thwart noon’s thirst for torpor, But siestas can be a moveable feasts. Midday slumbers threaten the evening air. The Readings Gangs of knowing smiles Show pinched appreciation And uncertain comprehension But precise applause - Just in case. The Token Foreigner Kim stood with her notes And translator. Her voice sang remote sounds About a blade which came and went, Its long profile accumulating perspectives. And then she praised a disabled artist Pushing air onto paper, Thus seeking a colour to define The hands he had been painting? For some reason it didn’t matter If one accidentally cut off the toad’s leg. Closing Speeches 2017, year of culture, had been honoured And then put to bed. What a relief! And a special mention for Matthew, The Hull poet we had understood. He was urged not to apologise. Performance poetry has its place – apparently.
Toad by Badger Pete – flickr.com