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 Jane Blaikie

‘and not/one of the unborn will appreciate/freedom like this ever’
After Liberation, translated by Seamus Heaney from the Dutch of J. C. Bloem (1887–1966)


Concert FM presenter, fluting in ear buds

over the piping talk of kids on holiday, notes

the composer’s repute may have suffered

for his being a Minister of Culture

for the National Socialists. May have?

Kids scoot off to the park, hissing

at each other – someone’s door may

get a ding-dong ditch. The retiree

they pranked a while ago has taken to

watching them over his fence. He’s

become their beast of thrilling fear, his

incontinent lab, the hound of death.

Another man, redundant, plans CCTV.

There’ll be less of our suburban laissez-faire.


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