Stolen Identity

By Philippa Briggs

Tonight on ‘Stolen Identity’ we
have a confused woman from Newcastle.
Rocking and muttering “I am not me”,
we are gravely concerned that this lass’ll
end up on the street, troubled, lost, roaming
seeking out her real head everywhere
because she says she is “bloody foaming
to be swapped with a person with grey hair”.
She is always in. SHE was always out.
She stands aloof. SHE loved a big embrace
SHE dashed about. She skives and just does nowt
sees mates on screen with disembodied face
Have you stolen her life? Then hand it back
you evil, Covid kleptomaniac

Poet and part-time PA from Newcastle upon Tyne who loves brain-storming with fellow poets.

4 thoughts on “Stolen Identity

  1. I loved the energy in your poem ‘Stolen Identity.’ The woman is SHE we can all relate to. It made me feel powerful and connected across the Covid abyss. “Hand it back you evil Covid kleptomaniac” YES, Yes, Yes … hand us all our lives back!

  2. Great poem, Philippa. I love the way you capture the feeling of loss and unwelcome replacement in such a unique way.

  3. What I loved about this poem was that I could feel the woman’s indignation, anger and frustration bouncing off the page. I liked the use of the colloquial and in addition, the capitalisation of ‘SHE’ gave real power to the voice of the woman who is sharing her story. We are invited to understand why the poet feels old age is being thrust upon her by the rules and restrictions imposed by the powers that be, in order to control the virus, personified as evil. I felt it was my life in a mirror. I enjoyed this poem very much.

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