Popular Poems About Britain

I.

70 has been screaming
blue murder at God
since I arrived.

I tell her
she can’t take my stick

fuck that—

it’s the good one
this country can’t afford

ii.

39. Black. Floor length puffa jacket.
Stands on a waiting room soapbox
about how cops are out for his blood

tells me to look out for him
on social media

I ask him his name

he tells me it’s LeeRoy

I’m stuck between sympathy
for his mental breakdown
and the fact I’ve never met
a...