When I’m Allowed Leave The Cancer Ward
with thanks to Claire Higgins for four of these lines
When I get out of here
I plan to open a factory
that manufactures miniature guillotines
which will be given away gratis
to bullied schoolchildren
to keep hidden in their bedrooms
until I give the signal.
When I get out of here
I plan to finally take that evening class
in Industrial Espionage for Beginners
where I’ll learn to break into laboratories
to steal the antidotes
to Elon Musk and
Ursula von der Leyen.
When I get out of here
things will be given their proper names;
the centre of every town re-titled
Oppression Square, during a ceremony
in which the Mayor (or someone prepared
to dress up as the Mayor)
tells the truth about who died,
how, and why.
Worst of all,
I’ll start a new Irish Literary Awards
to be held annually at an imaginary hotel.
Categories will include: least authentic
poetry collection, most intellectually empty
novel, most cowardly book review,
publisher who made the biggest
eeijt of themselves this year,
most over obvious networker,
most irrelevant but self-important
anthology, most incestuous
“My Books of The Year” list
in which the author chooses
pals who’ve all given him
fab reviews too.
And you’ll sit there constricting
the exact same muscle
Auntie Mary did when she was in fear
someone was about to take
the Archbishop’s name in vain.