'Next up, we've got a young man
unmoored from his morality.'
The presenter cues a short sound clip
of a furious mob attacking a bus.
'Tim Clare is a poet,' she says
over the sound of breaking glass.
'Tim, you claim possession of a brain
and expect us to take your word for it -
how do we know your actions aren't directed
by a trapped bat or suchlike, slamming
against the walls of your hollow skull?'
There is a pause like a whale diving.
'To answer your second question first,'
replies the poet, 'I get my ideas
from the skittish man tethered in my boiler room.
I've promised him liberty once I've finished
my first collection. I never claimed to be an artist.
I'd like something by Billie Holiday please -
for my mum, Jackie.' You can hear the disappointment
as they cut to the news.