share


Monopoly (after Ashbery)

I keep everything until the moment it’s needed.
I am the glint in your bank manager’s eye.
I never eat cake in case of global meltdown.
I am my own consolation.

I have a troubled relationship with material things:
I drop my coppers smugly in the river.
(I do everything with an unbearable smugness.)
I propose a vote of thanks.

I make small errors in your favour. Sometimes
I pretend nothing is wrong.
I won second prize in a beauty contest.
I am yellowing at the edges.

I was last seen drawing the short straw.
I hang about tragically on street corners, where
I hand out cards that read: if you see
I am struggling to lift this card, please, do not help me.

 

 



ABOUT THE CONTRIBUTOR


is the author of A Certain Chinese Encyclopedia, published in 2009. She won an Eric Gregory Award from the Society of Authors in 2010. Her debut collection, Loop of Jade (Chatto & Windus, 2015), saw her win the Sunday Times/Peters Fraser and Dunlop young writer of the year award in 2016.


READ NEXT

Fiction

The White Review Short Story Prize 2014

Lives of the Saints

Art

April 2017

‘Learning from Athens’

Fiction

June 2016

Beast