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Featured poem
Coronavirus
Maurice Rutherford
I’m now grown old, and have no hair to comb,
no wife to chide me when I fall asleep.
The over-seventies should stay at home,
we’re told. I’m in my nineties – in them deep,
so where does that place me? Should I be caged,
handcuffed and ostracized for having aged?
Please watch the Covid updates on TV
and warn me of the fate in store for me.

Illustration © Jeannie Clarke

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