Three Poems

On the Usefulness of the Parts

There’s a sociopathic streak on my father’s side
which I try to put to good use, as when
I presented the made-up letter from the made-up dean
to Sir John Something at the British Library.

I was in my best clothes, pressed jeans and tattersall,
shined combat boots that sunk into the Ardabil carpet
sent by the Shah of Oman. A cooperative spike of light
from the window gleamed at the gold seal.
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