BWV 156
(Ich steh mit einem Fuss im Grabe)
I am standing with one foot in the grave, according
to the media, when I’d much prefer the pose
of a stricken Victorian poet, reclining on a chaise longue,
velvet smoking jacket and a thimble of a glass
brimming with some dull opiate, everything
just terrible, the evening’s erotic promises cancelled.
I am standing with one foot in the grave: radio,
TV, the internet insist on it. Texts from government
and NHS ram it home. I am a hair’s breadth
from being a footnote to a statistic in a news bulletin.
I am a marked man, doomed, blogging on borrowed time.
Yet my cough is receding. My temperature’s normal. I feel fine.
Neil Fulwood has published two collections with Shoestring: No Avoiding It and Can’t Take Me Anywhere. He lives in Nottingham where he works as a bus driver.
