For The Poet Meena Alexander - Dead At 67 Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

So much of what we think is naff:
I am relieved to be still alive when Meena Alexander is dead
I am not in solitary in the slammer like Paul Manafort
Facing a decade of jail at 69 absent a pardon from a crook
I was not involved in a cover-up for the loss of my baby
Like the bearded guy in the Aussie TV series The Cry
I am not addicted to anything - though porn is a possible
It would be so special to feel desire again as a young lover
Though finding some solace with a back-scratch is on the cards
As I told my young son this morning driving him to the bus
In the rain in my dressing gown and heavy shoes, no socks,
If I'm run over by a bus and I'm not wearing any underwear
And this is revealed to the operating surgeon there will be a scandal
Or rather that is what my mother used to say - and she knew -
Not from experience though - though I would guess that things
Were tough in the Anderson Shelter and under rationing
Thank heavens I don't have to cook tonight, they can get instant noodles
Poetry sort of keeps me sane - it's thinking with a no-think purpose
Might-have-been, No-more, Too-late, Farewell - pale, wan and loitering Dante Rossetti
I had a look at your poetry Meena - mango trees, baobabs and macaque monkeys
Being divided, being lost, being different - you and Dante and I should get
Together for a chai and a chat.