Poem by Mary Hobson

The Half-life

No bliss, no dread,
no plan ahead.
The half-life. A convenient way
to fill the day.
It’s all that I can spare.
The rest is on the road
beside him there,
beside the spinning wheels, the scattered load.

1. The Counsellors
2. Snow in Zaraisk
3. Waterloo Station
4. Laundry Blues
5. Now I will always know that you died

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