I'm currently reading Matthew Sweeney's 'Black Moon'. Sweeney has been one of my favourite poets ever since I discovered his prize-winning poem, 'The History of Glassblowing' a few years ago. For me, it's his sense of humour that gives his poetry lasting appeal. It's inventive and often fantastical, and his poems are a real joy to read. Humour in poetry requires a very light touch for it to work on more than one level, but Sweeney does this with incredible skill. As a result, his humorous poems are understated enough to avoid becoming distracting or intrusive. 'How to Win the Lottery' is taken from his 2007 collection, Black Moon, and is absolutely an example of one such poem.
Samsa was now a human. He’d recently become a human after his architect decided to put a human heart in him and give him feelings. The five litres of blood that now pumped around his body warmed him up. It made for incredible nose bleeds, spasms, cramps and bruising, to name o nly a small fraction of the symptoms, but his architect assured him that it would all be worth it and that he'd feel normal very soon. He didn't know what normal was, but he knew it wasn't puking and shitting and bleeding all over the place for the first two months and then just feeling terrible for several weeks after that. Human life is agony, he thought, but he trusted the process. One day, a little over twelve weeks after the operation, he woke up from his first good night's sleep and was able to open the curtains without the light splitting his skull in two. Samsa had known Shabeezi before she became a human woman. All they had done was fight. Samsa especially liked doing flying
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