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Often in poetry the real drama is happening off stage, and no more so than in this poem by Lorraine Mariner, where the title casts a dark shadow over what could otherwise be a wistful remembrance. It’s the title poem from Mariner’s 2014 collection published by Picador.

 

And then there will be no more nonsense

And then there will be no more nonsense
and you will tell her about that evening

when you stopped in the dusk at the edge
of the grass you had cut that afternoon

and looked back to where you had just sat
on the patio eating the meal she had cooked

and saw how blessed it all appeared if someone
had watched from where you stood.

 

Used with kind permission of Lorraine Mariner and Picador.