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we collected together all of the scientists and historians & i said okay, how about him he was a murderer – but it’s a photograph sun in his eyes how many decades since he tried it on? we tried it on,   did we? we wouldn’t do it, she said & we took lifts from vans on longwall street, pulled our tights up from the waist, snacked outside libraries – we needed headrushes to break our reading   we salute you from new college’s slippery mound where we climbed to escape the tourists & their guidebooks, laughing at their own hands we salute you & your endeavours noli me tangere, i am flying i am flayed today – there are exams & it is a good rotten apple summer, i think we bit away the shade   i spent so long reading reprinted old books that when i read the new ones you told me about they said oxford’s problem is all the women   who won’t fuck you – i thought that’s interesting baby, did i make you sick? the minstrels strummed & we thumbed back through the pages – margins full of us this one’s about anne boleyn & this one is about wild game the rhyme – it’s so quiet noli me tangere, is it my right to say that? i didn’t like my legs but didn’t know what to wear in case you saw them   & we spent lunches stuck on dead princes’ faces this is not what you’re like you only want to sing about how much you love us anyway