Your group meeting has finally opened in Zoom
And for once there is peace in your miniscule room.
A fresh coffee is steaming just off to your right
While your nocturnal eyes blink in the morning light.

They wait first for two minutes, then two minutes more,
Then the group leader sighs, “oh well, it’s 9:04—
Guess we should get started, soon Sam will be here.”
Then a sudden thought fills you with terrible fear.

Did I—surely not?—miss my wee before bed?
(Just the thought of it forces a shake of the head.)
But then realisation rings clear as a bell:
For an hour you are trapped in this zoomiest hell.


Plan A: if my camera is off, I can go
Take the tiniest leak break, then no one will know.
But these try-hards have all got their videos on,
So my black screen betrays me the second I’m gone.

Plan B: if I move in a slow-enough range
I doubt that they’d notice my smooth background change.

You stand up—and realise I’m really this nuts?!
But Plan A might work if my “internet cuts”.


You turn off your camera—you can’t chicken out
Then you run for the loo like a man in a drought.
It seems all is well (you neat James Bond snacc)
Until someone points out that your screen has gone black.

“Is his internet dead? Can you hear us all, Reece?”
You stand up and scream, “Can I just piss in peace?”
Except that you don’t, ‘coz that’s embarrassing
So your head hangs in shame at your Zoom meeting sin.

Farrago's magazine cover - Edition One 2024


It’s 2012 and you have just opened Tumblr. A photo pops up of MGMT in skinny jeans, teashade sunglasses and mismatching blazers that are reminiscent of carpets and ‘60s curtains. Alexa Chung and Alex Turner have just broken up. His love letter has been leaked and Tumblr is raving about it—”my mouth hasn’t shut up about you since you kissed it.” Poetry at its peak: romance is alive.

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