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Steve Shepherd: a poem

Photograph by Steve Shepherd

for non-catholic foreigners, rome

alongside shelley and keats

belinda lee, born in devon 1935

thrown from her car in california,

landed here in ‘61.

names sing out in the shaded cemetery:

wentworth buller, moses stephen slaughter,

charles patrick dark, who died for love.

every epitaph's a poem

some, dewan ram lall and inga bang lund,

have poems for names.

then, unexpectedly,

beneath a white marble slab,

a man who once stood me up.

twenty years ago I waited for gregory corso

in a new york bar. 

no escape now, greg,

and no excuses either...

the silence is broken by max, eighteen.

not gonna lie dad, he says softly,

this place would be great for paintball.

Steve Shepherd writes poems and takes photographs. He used to make radio programmes, mostly jazz.


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