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. Another Winter in Zaraisk…
3. Now I will always know that you died
4. Snow in Zaraisk
5. Meditations on Marcus Aurelius

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