Sonnet to the UK:

There are no new recipes for disaster.
For subatomic life, this is well understood, mostly
unspoken, but how was I supposed to know? I put my
finger there — this was the first time — “Great.
I’ll just hold your thumbs.
Down.”

It was maybe a couple of weeks later I remembered, “I
feel like burning myself.”

Yes, another form of dance, elf.
No aplomb in nature, please. No

Living truly among ilks of valid scouring colloids — simple?
No mimic measure, no ceremony swats from

“plinthing a drumbeat”
Also.