As expected, we've had a couple of Olympic poems this week - beginning with Steve Regan's blistering attack on The Evil Games with its 'tarnished gold', 'rancid anthems' and 'being about /winning instead of the /important stuff of life, /which is mainly about losing.' Even Vala Hafstad's series of limericks The Animals' Olympics Report hinted at darker truths about marketing and one-up-manship.
For all our heroic aspirations, how sad it is, says Abigail Wyatt in Dark Days: a Reflection on Our Time, 'when the tribe no longer will carry its sick / but leaves them by the wayside to die' - a poignant poem inspired by a threat to disability and sickness benefits which has gone under-reported in the UK due to Olympic fever.
If this sounded like The Door to Hell - it isn't, that's in Turmenistan according to Craig Guthrie. But sometimes hell is a closed door, like those described by the ex-prisoners Lavina Kumar writes about so movingly in Just draw the sun on the wall.
What will we think looking back on all this? Noel Loftus has some ideas on that in Vision Twenty Twenty. But then hindsight is always 20/20 isn't it?
We're very low on submissions at the moment, and we're happy to have more Olympic Games!
Have a good week
Clare (& Martin)