There was a moment in the senate
When the orator and the administrator
Stood a few inches apart, their cheeks puffed
From the previous power point scoring,
Suddenly grey and tired. This was because
The shadow of hopelessness (the debate had been about
Aid percentages, rules for slaughter and United Fruit)
Had slipped into the room, as it often did at this time,
And stood between them panting.

Then the orator saw an opening
And the administrator a flaw in subsection three.
The shadow could feel itself becoming a syllable again
Or was it a piece of armour salvaged from a dump?
Blood flushed back into the august body’s faces.
There was a stirring, as of adulterers at siesta time.
Prayer breakfasts were waiting.
The full complexity of the issues – My honourable friend –

Send Letters To:

The Editor
London Review of Books,
28 Little Russell Street
London, WC1A 2HN

letters@lrb.co.uk

Please include name, address, and a telephone number.

Read anywhere with the London Review of Books app, available now from the App Store for Apple devices, Google Play for Android devices and Amazon for your Kindle Fire.

Sign up to our newsletter

For highlights from the latest issue, our archive and the blog, as well as news, events and exclusive promotions.

Newsletter Preferences