Michael Jackson made me burn my lunch

Well, not him. But news of his death when a facebook message made me realise that the reason there was a special on 5 this evening was that he was dead, not just a teaser in the run up to his tour. So as we've been writing poems about the news I wrote a poem about this news... sort of two but the first was just what I said when I heard.

Gut reaction

What?

What?

What?

?

This isn’t right.

This is wrong, yes?

The Questions

Who do I remember?

You then, when you were still young

beautiful, untainted?

Or then, when your transformation

didn’t shock but intrigued?

Or then. When you’d gone too far

disfigured, body dysmorphic?

What do I remember?

The 1986 letter I never sent

saying maybe, one day, we could marry?

Or the music that filled childhood afternoons

classics that filled dancefloors?

Or the twisted media obsession

old skeletons that wouldn’t lie down?

What should I remember?

Maybe just the music