Free Verse, by Matt Harvey

I spoke some free verse to a friend of mine.
She said, "What's that?" I said, "That? That's free verse."
"I bet it is," she said. "I've heard that line
before. You want to get inside my purse."
"No, honestly," I said, "the verse was free.
It didn't rhyme and neither did it scan."
"So what's the catch?" she asked. "And what's the fee?"
"Trust me," I said, "I'm not that sort of man."
"Oh yeah?" she said. I said, "Look let's forget it."
"Listen," she said, "I'm not born yesterday.
You want something. But you're not going to get it.
I see the sneaky game you're trying to play.
I know my rights. Nothing in life's for free."
So I gave in. And charged her 50p.

Matt Harvey, from The Hole in The Sum Of My Parts

My son, my executioner - Donald Hall

My son, my executioner,
I take you in my arms,
Quiet and small and just astir,
And whom my body warms.

Sweet death, small son, our instrument
Of immortality,
Your cries and hungers document
Our bodily decay.

We twenty-five and twenty-two,
Who seemed to live forever,
Observe enduring life in you
And start to die together.

From Brother Songs: A Male Anthology of Poetry. Ed: Jim Perlman.