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(Photo by Tom Oates)

I might have known

the tender clasp

evoking the tension

between Time and Love

(symbol of faithfulness)

is possibly a nineteenth century

addition; a terminal inexactitude.

But is it?

Now it’s thought to be original;

its loyalty as genuine

as the little dogs under their feet.

I might have known

Larkin’s best phrase:

final blazon

was Monica’s invention,

replacing his weak signal.

I might have known

Arundel Tomb isn’t a grave.

It’s in Chichester

and is a memorial,

strictly speaking.

The Fitzalans are buried

in Lewes Priory,

to be precise.

So, what is truth?

Maybe we should all cross our fingers

and hope that we can make it work.

Eleanor crossed her legs

and yet seemed to make

the public presentation

more than acceptable.

Nothing is written in stone.

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