Alfie Shoyger
Poetry from the white British working class
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Friday, 19 April 2019
To a Firefly
Twilight-beacon, fluorescent like
some robot wasp, flashing
across my hand, how d’you find my
digital watch? Dashing?
Its blue light beams, a perfect mate
for the firefly, as through
all of nature, modernity
pulses, through us, through you.
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