We weave words
from your looms,
birthed from your wombs.
– Anon

Who gave licence to this,
this wonderful self-indulgence
this poly-curation?

This muting of you?

This crowd-authored narrative-telling
behind their backs, beyond the grave
reappointed re-appropriation assembled by you?

Who, who, who?

Who gave permission
to magpie meaning
to a new arc?

Bring them here!

I will not resist their radical reinvention, their James Brown
cat amongst the wherefore art thou,
mother fuckers!

This handpicked unpicking,
re-stitching,
words reassigned still recognised.

This oeuvre with a new groove!

Whose name will you sign
to these lines destined anyway
to be carried on? And on. Anon.