Poetry for the soul

The Friday poem – Voznesensky, by Sam Hunt




      meeting his girlfriend in the rain


is taking place tonight.

      There’s the same


telephone box, late fifties,

     Voznesensky & girlfriend


rooting like rattlesnakes.

     The whole world is shaking.


Voznesensky himself is



It must be love, he thought.

     Or a bad night.


Or good news


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