Poem by Mary Hobson

Despair

I hate this page.
No black on white,
no crossings out, not one scrawled word.
It is demanding that I write,
empty my head,
release my rage,
my love of the absurd,
my grief.
Well yes. It would be a relief.
Something I need to do.
A chore.
Like clearing dead leaves from the overflow.
But is it anything you’d like to know?
Why should I empty it on you?
It’s all been said
before.

1. The Counsellors
2. Snow in Zaraisk
3. Laundry Blues
4. Doggerel
5. They’ll say ‘Do you remember when…?’

Ada Cambridge (Cross) Despair ("Alone! Alone! No beacon, far or near!")

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