The politics of poetry

Considered retrospectively, Miimley officially began on 27 February 2017 when the Hargeysa-based poet Xasan Daahir Ismaaciil ‘Weedhsame’ posted a poem titled ‘Muddici’ (Plaintiff) on Facebook. The 306-line jiifto poem contained a scathing critique of Somaliland’s political leadership alongside a call for his fellow citizens to wake up to their own exploitation. By 11 March his poem had drawn two poetic responses: one by Cabdullaahi Xasan Ganey, who supported Weedhsame’s position, and one by Daaha Cabdi Gaas, who objected to many of his points. From there, the debate exploded. From March until May, when Ramadan began and the chain was ‘closed’, the debate raged online – and in qaat-chewing houses, teashops and other social spaces where poets and listeners discussed Miimley’s political themes and the quality of its verse. The three initial poets’ Facebook pages served as key sites of dissemination, where they shared forty-one ‘official’ poems by twenty-five poets (including three women); at least sixty-five additional poets (including five more women) volunteered contributions directly via YouTube or Facebook.Footnote ⁵ Approximately three-quarters of contributors sided with Weedhsame, while the remaining poets supported Daaha or offered another perspective.

Significantly, Weedhsame did not intend to start a poetry debate. But his poem clearly touched a nerve, and it inspired a swift and broad response precisely because it tapped into several socio-political and economic frustrations that were simmering at the time. Most immediately, ‘Muddici’ and many poems to follow gave voice to public resentment regarding the terms of a 2016 deal to develop the port of Berbera, which had been brokered by the outgoing president Axmed Maxamed Maxamuud ‘Siilaanyo’. Located 250 kilometres from the Ethiopian border, Berbera has long been eyed as a potential point of maritime access for Ethiopia, which has been landlocked since Eritrea gained independence in 1993. For Somaliland, Berbera’s port represents a significant potential source of revenue, and its development promised both jobs and infrastructural expansion, so many Somalilanders supported a deal in principle. And given that most governments and multinational corporations are wary of sidestepping the federal government in Mogadishu to deal with Somaliland, a bilateral agreement of this nature was no small feat. The deal that Siilaanyo negotiated, however, handed majority control of the port to Ethiopia and Dubai Ports World (DPWorld). It was originally voted down in the House of Representatives, but it later passed amid rumours that MPs had been paid for their support. Siilaanyo was reportedly promised a villa in Dubai, and those close to his regime were set to benefit disproportionately. Accusations of corruption and mismanaging public resources swirled, as public sentiment coalesced around the idea that the specific deal Siilaanyo had brokered was a wasted opportunity that benefited the political elite at the expense of everyone else.

The deal with DPWorld, however, was in many ways the tip of the iceberg, as frustration with Siilaanyo’s regime, and Somaliland’s political-economic trajectory, had been growing for some time. On the political front, while Siilaanyo was democratically elected in 2010, his term was meant to last only five years. He had announced that he would not seek re-election, but by 2017 elections were two years overdue. Resentment towards politicians, who could be seen driving around in nice new SUVs, was compounded by the fact that most people face significant socio-economic challenges in their day-to-day lives. Notably, below average rainfall in 2016 had caused drought conditions across much of the country (Abdulkadir Reference Abdulkadir2017), ravaging pastoral communities and their animals, and forcing more and more people into internally displaced persons (IDP) camps in urban centres. Of particular concern to the generational cohort who drove Miimley was the fact that unemployment rates were also stubbornly high, even as opportunities to pursue post-secondary degrees had expanded. This situation was often blamed for the increasing numbers of young people who had embarked on tahriib, a dangerous form of irregular migration across the Sahara and Mediterranean towards Europe (Ali Reference Ali2013; Reference Ali2016; Chonka Reference Chonka2023; Simonsen Reference Simonsen2023). While poets have themselves debated where to lay blame for this catastrophe,Footnote ⁶ popular sentiment held politicians at least partly responsible for inadequately addressing unemployment, or failing to gain Somaliland the recognition it needs to participate more fully in the global economy.

Against this context, Miimley became a forum for airing a series of interlinked grievances and debating several issues at the heart of Somaliland’s democratic project. Following Weedhsame, a central theme is that greedy or ‘hungry’ politicians have sold, ‘eaten’, ‘milked’ or otherwise misused national resources – including the port – at the expense of the poor and other marginalized groups, and in so doing they betrayed the trust of the citizens who had given them their votes. Poets on this side use their verse to remind politicians that their actions will have consequences, whether in this life or the next, while also demanding a more equitable future in which all Somalilanders might flourish. On the other side are poets, including Daaha, who caution against divisive rhetoric and instead call for national unity. While acknowledging that Somaliland faces challenges, these poets highlight the significant gains that Somaliland has made since declaring independence in 1991, following a devastating war between the Somali National Movement (SNM) and Siyaad Barre’s regime. These are achievements, it should be noted, that make most Somalilanders rightly proud – including the establishment of a bi-cameral parliament and judiciary, the adoption of a constitution, respect for free speech, regular elections, and advancements in the spheres of education and postwar economic reconstruction – and poets on both sides reflect on the sacrifices and enduring legacy of the SNM’s struggle. In this way, Miimley became a debate not only about the equitable distribution of political power and resources, but also about the relative value of political stability, democratic accountability, national unity and socio-economic justice.

While it is difficult to assess Miimley’s direct political impact, its poets certainly succeeded in spotlighting several critical issues during a moment of political transition. Miimley occurred in the lead-up to the overdue presidential election, which took place in November 2017, and politicians of the ruling and opposition parties responded as one might expect: members of Siilaanyo’s Kulmiye were made anxious by the debate, and one powerful minister offered Weedhsame a large bribe to be quiet, while members of the opposition expressed their support. Kulmiye’s candidate, Muse Biixi Cabdi, did eventually win the election, although his campaign notably revolved around a promise to deal with corruption and otherwise address many of the shortcomings of Siilaanyo’s regime highlighted by Miimley. At the very least, Miimley worked, in Weedhsame’s reckoning, to ‘put those politicians on notice’.

The poetry of politics

In a very immediate sense, Miimley emerged as a response to Somaliland’s current socio-political environment. But Miimley’s form is a contemporary iteration of a long-established poetic tradition: silsilad (pl. silsilado) or gabay-ku-dood – that is, poetic debate.Footnote ⁷ And it was able to ‘put those politicians on notice’ precisely because this practice is itself part of a broader literary-political tradition in which poetry is not only an important medium of political expression but itself ‘a formidable means of “politics”’ (Ahad Reference Ahad2015: 25). From the Arabic silsilah, meaning ‘chain’, silsilado comprise poems that are ‘linked’ by the themes they address, the way in which poets respond to each other (including hurling insults or critiquing others’ poetry), their shared metrical form and, increasingly, a common alliterative sound. As is the case for Somali poetic traditions more broadly, the poetry of silsilado is a decidedly ‘thesis-based art’ that is valued for the immediacy and relevance of its message and the beauty of its aesthetic form (Samatar Reference Samatar1982: 55–8), which combines strict metric and alliterative rules with recognized yet evolving literary conventions. Some enduring practices that feature in Miimley include: a strong reliance on imagery and metaphors drawn from Somalis’ pastoral heritage (even among urban poets); the invocation of Islamic morality as a framework for motivating behavioural change; the integration of proverbs and idiomatic expression; and the inclusion of poetic ‘boasting’ and critique (see also Woolner Reference Woolner2024).

A full account of historical silsilado, and political poetry more generally, is beyond my current scope (but see Woolner Reference Woolner2024; Ahad Reference Ahad2015; Samatar Reference Samatar1982). It is nevertheless important to situate Miimley in relation to several past debates, not least because Miimley’s poets position themselves, both implicitly and explicitly, as the inheritors of a particular poetic-activist tradition. In content, form and outlook, Miimley shares notable similarities with two famous silsilado from the Siyaad Barre era (1969–91): Siinley (in ‘s’) in 1972, and Deelley (in ‘d’) in 1979–80. Under Barre’s increasingly repressive authoritarian rule, these chains featured poems that debated the merits of Barre’s rule, denounced nepotism and corruption, drew attention to inequality and injustice, and expounded the evils of clannism.Footnote ⁸ Many poets paid dearly for their participation: several were exiled or imprisoned, and Deelley ended tragically when one of its contributors was killed by the regime. These debates also featured several highly celebrated poets – including Maxamed Ibraahin Warsame ‘Hadraawi’, Maxamed Xaashi Dhamac ‘Gaarriye’, Cabdi Aadan Xaad ‘Cabdi Qays’ and Xasan Xaaji Cabdillaahi ‘Xasan Ganey’ – who are revered as national heroes for their artistic skill and commitment to speaking truth to power. Significantly, several of Miimley’s contributors have direct personal links to these poets: Weedhsame was mentored by Gaarriye, artistically and philosophically,Footnote ⁹ and Cabdullaahi is Xasan Ganey’s son. Some of these poets and their generational legacies are directly named in Miimley, both as a means of locating one’s own poetic inheritances and to criticize others’ verse or to call them to account.

Beyond these explicit links, Miimley is also notably like Siinley and Deelley in both form and poetic outlook. All three chains are composed in jiifto, a short-lined genre that includes at least one alliterating word per line, and that rose in popularity following Somali independence in 1960 (Afrax Reference Afrax2013). This is a departure from pre-independence-era silsilado, which used gabay, a long-lined metre that was historically the most prestigious genre of male poetry. Significantly, some commentators have attributed jiifto’s rising popularity to the fact that it is ‘easier’ to compose than gabay, making it the preferred form of an emerging urban, political elite who were not as poetically experienced (Idaajaa and Khooli Reference Idaajaa and Khooli2001: 8; Afrax Reference Afrax2013: 113). Jiifto’s ascendance furthermore tacks with another significant transformation. Whereas poets historically spoke as clan spokesmen,Footnote ¹⁰ poets of the postcolonial Somali nation state increasingly came to see themselves as a clan-transcending voice ‘for the people’. This emergent ideal is encapsulated in the saying ‘abwaan qabiil ma leh’ (the poet has no clan) and is reflected in Gaarriye’s view that the poet should be ‘a voice for the voiceless and under-privileged’ (Weedhsame Reference Weedhsame, Herbert and Hussein2018: 197). The expectation that one’s poetic-political position should not be defined by clan is also a clear feature of Miimley, to the extent that being motivated by clan is treated as a character flaw that is frequently grounds for critique. The notion that poets have a ‘duty’ to speak for the marginalized and vulnerable against the reigning powers also rings through loud and clear, although poets do diverge in the value they place on calling attention to injustice versus promoting national unity. Indeed, from Daaha’s first contribution onwards, a significant feature of Miimley is a debate about poetry’s ‘higher purpose’ and the ‘proper’ uses of poetry. In this way, Miimley continues a decades-long conversation about poetry’s role in maintaining or transforming Somali political configurations and holding political leaders to account.

Despite clearly echoing aspects of Siinley and Deelley, poets also highlighted to me several significant ways in which Miimley departed from earlier chains. First, whereas Siinley and Deelley took place under a violent, authoritarian regime with strict censorship policies, Miimley took place in a democratic context with far greater respect for freedom of speech. As such, the language of Miimley is straightforward and, for all its faults, the government did not retaliate: no poet was injured or jailed for their verse. Second, Miimley was the first major silsilad to take place on social media,Footnote ¹¹ which shaped Miimley’s participatory dynamics in several interrelated ways. The chain spread more quickly, and came to an end faster, than any previous debate. And despite its time-condensed unfolding, Miimley inspired notably broad and diverse participation, surpassing all previous chains in total number of contributions.Footnote ¹² These contributions came from well-established poets and relative newcomers, located both in Somaliland and in the diaspora (notably so for those who defended the government).Footnote ¹³ Miimley also featured more women than Siinley and Deelley, and their contributions were not only accommodated but highly celebrated, both for their artistic mastery and for the unique gendered perspective they contained.Footnote ¹⁴ Poets highlighted to me that social media’s lack of formal gatekeepers has had mixed effects: on the one hand it is arguably making poets ‘more free’, but on the other some lamented that it has enabled the circulation of poorer-quality verse. While the impact of social media on Somali poetic expression has yet to be fully realized and assessed, Miimley presents a fascinating insight into the evolving yet enduring nature of contemporary political verse.

The poets and their perspectives

The sheer volume of participation that Miimley inspired, and its dispersed unfolding on social media, means that compiling, let alone translating, all its poetry is a momentous task. The poetry included with this article thus represents only a sliver of the entire debate. The excerpts and translations below nevertheless provide a thorough introduction to the rhetorical strategies, political perspectives and diversity of voices and experiences contained in the debate. The featured poets, furthermore, are broadly representative of the diverse cross-section of people who participated in Miimley. They were also all in Hargeysa in the summer of 2022, when I was able to speak to them directly about their backgrounds, motivations and poetic choices. To give the fullest possible perspective of the types of arguments and positions included in the debate, however, I have over-represented both women and pro-government poets. For his unique generational perspective, I have also included the lone poet who was over sixty. I will say a few things about these poets’ biographies, before detailing some notable features about the poems selected.

The first three featured poets were effectively responsible for launching Miimley: Weedhsame, Cabdullaahi Xasan Ganey and Daaha Cabdi Gaas. These poets share a gendered and generational perspective. They are all men born in Somaliland in the early to mid-1980s who were displaced by war as children, before returning to Somaliland where they came of age in the early years of Somaliland’s independence. In their mid- to late thirties at the time of Miimley, they would have still been considered ‘youth’, although they each brought to their poetry considerable, and varied, life experience. Significantly, Weedhsame is widely considered one of the most talented poets of his generation. He has a social media following of over 300,000, which undoubtedly contributed to how Miimley went viral. Born in Kalabaydh and schooled in Gabiley, Weedhsame trained as a mathematician at Amoud University in Boorame. At the time of Miimley, he was living Hargeysa and working as a statistician for the Ministry of Education and as a lecturer at the University of Hargeysa, where he taught the course on Somali language and literature that his mentor Gaarriye first developed. Cabdullaahi, similarly, was a relatively well-known poet who comes from celebrated artistic stock: his father is the poet-playwright Xasan Ganey, who participated in Deelley, and both his father and mother (singer Cadar Axmed Kaahin) were members of Somalia’s flagship artistic collective Waaberi. In 2017, he was working as a social worker in Minnesota, where he had attended university. Daaha, by contrast, was not previously known as a poet. At the time of Miimley he was working in Doha, Qatar. Both Cabdullaahi and Daaha have since moved back to Somaliland.

The other three featured poets – Deeqa Nuux Yoonis, Layla Cali Faarax ‘Layla Sagal’ and Ibraahin Xasan ‘Sangal’ – stand apart from the first three in several regards. Most obviously, Deeqa and Layla are women, and are also representative of a slightly younger generation. As was the case for about half of the chain’s participants, they were born in the mid-1990s, after Somaliland had declared independence. At the time of the debate, Deeqa had recently graduated from university and started work as a teacher (a profession shared by a notable number of participants). Layla, who is the granddaughter of Gaarriye, is a businesswoman. Both women were born and raised in Hargeysa and had dabbled in poetry before, although neither had a very wide following. Sangal, similarly, had composed poetry before but was not well known as a poet. But, by contrast, he was significantly older. Born in 1954, he worked as a civil servant in Somalia before spending twenty years in Saudi Arabia. An active supporter of the Somali National Movement from afar, he returned to Somaliland after the war and was elected as an MP in 2002, representing Gabiley. As far as I am aware, he was the chain’s oldest participant. He is also the only former member of the government to participate, although one other contributor, Cabdi Cali Xirsi, has since become a local councillor in Gabiley.

The poems featured below appear in the order that they appeared in the chain, beginning with Weedhsame’s ‘Muddici’. As noted earlier, Weedhsame did not intend to start a poetic debate. He explained to me, rather, that this poem began as most of his other poems on socio-political themes begin: by witnessing injustices around him (especially the deal with DPWorld) and being moved by emotion to take up his duty as a poet to ‘give voice to the voiceless’ (see also Weedhsame Reference Weedhsame, Herbert and Hussein2018; Woolner Reference Woolner2023: 63–77; Reference Woolner2025; Woolner and Weedhsame Reference Woolner and Weedhsame2024). The opening of ‘Muddici’ situates the poem in precisely these terms – that is, as emerging from dire socio-political circumstances and his own poetic ‘responsibility’. The poem features several idiomatic expressions and proverbs, a common rhetorical device in both poetry and prose. But the force of Weedhsame’s argument is not veiled in the least: he offers a clear and scathing critique of politicians’ misdeeds and hints at the consequences they might face if they do not change their behaviour, while also calling on his fellow citizens to wake up to their own mistreatment. His invocation of the Day of Judgement in the poem’s conclusion is a recurring feature throughout the chain.

Building on the figure of the Plaintiff, the second poem, Cabdullaahi’s ‘Marag’ (Witness) is structured as a court case that the poem’s narrator happens to overhear during a dream. On the one side are a series of downtrodden witnesses who offer evidence on behalf of the Plaintiff, while on the other is a spokesperson for the president who offers unconvincing rebuttals. Several of the witnesses Cabdullaahi introduces – the poor and hungry, orphans, widows, the frustrated voter, and youth who embark on tahriib – regularly appear throughout the chain. His depiction of politicians as hungry and gluttonous (i.e. greedy), and likened to animals including hyenas and snakes, is also a common trope deployed by other poets (and, indeed, similar to Deelley; see Ahad Reference Ahad2015). Reflecting on the poem’s origins, Cabdullaahi explained to me that he and Weedhsame often exchanged poems with each other, and Weedhsame had shared a draft of ‘Muddici’ with him. He had a poem on a similar theme that alliterated in a different letter, but he decided to rewrite it into ‘m’ because two poems that alliterate in the same letter would attract more interest. Of his own motivations he said that, although he was living abroad, he followed Somaliland politics closely and was not happy with Siilaanyo’s regime. Like Weedhsame, he describes his poetry as a kind of social obligation and, in this case, he hoped that their poetry might work to channel simmering frustration into a non-violent form of protest.

As its title ‘Muddaacale’ (Defendant) suggests, Daaha’s first poem defends the government. While living in Qatar and completely unknown and inexperienced as a poet, Daaha explained that he encountered Weedhsame’s and Cabdullaahi’s poems on social media and felt compelled to respond. Somaliland, to be sure, has its challenges, he said, but he felt that Weedhsame and Cabdullaahi were ‘wrongly presenting a catastrophic vision’ of Somaliland. He also noted that poets have the power to push people to rise against the government – ‘You know the power of poets!’ he explained, matter-of-factly – and he thought a more nuanced perspective was needed. Daaha responds to Weedhsame and Cabdullaahi in two ways: by directly challenging their assessment of the political situation and by critiquing their use of poetry. Especially stinging is his suggestion that they are using poetry as a sharp saw to cut through the flesh of the she-camel Maandeeq. A panegyric name meaning ‘She who satisfies the mind’, Maandeeq has been used as a metaphor for the Somali nation state since the 1950s, first to shore up patriotic sentiment and later to lament the failures of statehood (see Ahad Reference Ahad2015). Daaha’s evocation of Maandeeq thus situates Miimley in a long conversation about the Somali nation state, although now the nation state in question is Somaliland, not Somalia. His poem ends with an invitation for others to ‘recite poems in “M”’. Because his poem represents the first contrasting view, it is this poem that officially made Miimley a debate.

A flurry of contributions followed Daaha’s poem. The fourth poem (not featured), Sakariye Awaare’s ‘Maxkamadda’ (The court), followed the courtroom theme of the first three. After this, however, the debate ‘moved out of the courtroom’, as Weedhsame put it, to include a more diverse cast of characters and perspectives (although subsequent poems do offer various bits of ‘evidence’ or witness testimony). Among these early responses were the next two featured poems. Deeqa’s poem ‘Muran-diid’ (Against quarrelling) is a response that she told me simply ‘burst out of [her]’ (‘maanso way iga soo baxday’). After witnessing the beginning of Miimley on Facebook, Deeqa explained that Weedhsame and Cabdullaahi had put into words people’s sentiments at the time, and that she felt compelled to lend her support to this cause. She specifically addresses these sentiments in the poem’s opening, before offering her own take on the political situation, in verse that makes heavy use of pastoral imagery and evokes God as the ultimate judge. While previously unknown as a poet, her contribution was very warmly received by the public and her fellow poets, several of whom praised her as perhaps the most talented contributor to the whole debate.

In contrast to Deeqa’s poem – and, indeed, almost all the other poems in the chain – Layla’s poem ‘Hooyo maagtay’ (Discouraged mother) is notable for the distinctly gendered perspective that it offers and the voice she deploys. After contextualizing her own participation, she takes on the first-person perspective of a downtrodden single mother whose testimony offers further evidence that something in the country has gone wrong. She also criticizes Daaha and his supporters for ‘hijacking’ Miimley from being ‘the poor people’s forum’. In contrast to the more detached ‘reporter’ or omniscient observer voices used in most other poems, several male poets suggested that the ‘voice’ of Layla’s poem made it especially emotional – a comment that was often extended to women’s poetry in general. For her part, Layla described this compositional choice as arising from ‘wanting to feel the suffering of that mother’.

The next three featured poems come from late March and early April and begin to demonstrate the back-and-forth nature of the debate. The first of these is Daaha’s first rebuttal. As the key pro-government spokesperson who upheld a minority perspective, Daaha would become the chain’s most prolific contributor; he explained that this was the result of having to defend himself from constant attacks. In this poem, ‘Mudan’, he first situates himself as part of a long lineage of celebrated poets, including Hadraawi. He then proceeds to clarify several of his main points, highlighting that the socio-environmental problems Somalilanders face need not be blamed entirely on politicians. The poem also features a repetitive refrain in which Daaha praises his own poetry in an amusingly boastful manner.

The next poem, by Sangal, similarly defends the government while also speaking from the vantage point of an older poet. Like Daaha, Sangal said he was motivated to participate because, in his view, Weedhsame was ‘completely wrong about the political situation’. Since poets are still capable of inciting violence, he also wanted Weedhsame and others to tone down their critique, which he noted was especially straightforward. His poem also specifically derides ‘men without beards’, including Daaha, for lacking political perspective and poetic expertise. On the first front, he highlights that under no circumstances should Somaliland be compared to the repressive authoritarianism people experienced under Barre (when Sangal himself was jailed multiple times). On the second, he mocks the verse of younger poets as simple ‘entertainment’, while cautioning several poets by name against using their verse to stir up public discontent. He also noted to me that he was especially shocked by Cabdullaahi’s participation; in his view it was unthinkable that a young man whose poet father was still alive would contemplate wading into a poetic-political debate in this manner.

As suggested by its title, Deeqa’s ‘Miimku waa halkiisii’ (‘M’ is where it is supposed to be), the next featured poem, defends Weedhsame and company’s use of poetry. Her poem opens with a description of (good) literature’s beauty and singularity, before suggesting that it is Daaha and company who are deflecting the debate and using it to mislead. Significantly, Deeqa wrote this poem with Weedhsame’s encouragement. He had been so impressed by her first poem – and keen to highlight women’s contributions – that he personally suggested that Deeqa contribute another poem.

The final three featured poems (which appear in the supplementary material online) come again from the chain’s opening poets. Weedhsame’s ‘Maax dareen lulay’ ([My] sentiments provoked discontent), his second and final poem, came midway through the debate, while Cabdullaahi’s ‘Daal iyo Ma’ wadaleey’ (‘D’ and ‘M’ together) and Daaha’s ‘Miiggan’ (Brave), their third and fourth contributions respectively, are from the end of the chain. In addition to demonstrating the range of themes and poetic features discussed above, these poems are unique for a subtle technical challenge they contain: the use of double alliteration, a completely new poetic practice – one that has also been observed in contemporary love songs (see Jama Reference Jama2021). In Weedhsame’s poem, each stanzaFootnote ¹⁵ alliterates in ‘m’ plus an additional letter. Cabdullaahi upped the ante and alliterates in only ‘m’ and ‘d’ throughout.Footnote ¹⁶ Not to be outdone, Daaha’s poem also maintains ‘m’ and ‘d’ alliteration, while simultaneously mocking the practice for leading to nonsensical verse. Significantly, several poets highlighted to me that the broad participation Miimley inspired was partly enabled by the chain’s use of ‘m’, which is comparatively easy to alliterate. Double alliteration makes composing jiifto considerably more difficult, and thus subtly restricts participation. Nonetheless, several other (‘unofficial’) contributors did take up this challenge.Footnote ¹⁷ For their part, Weedhsame and Cabdullaahi described this practice to me as a kind of entertaining challenge they had set for themselves, a subtle poetic ‘play’.

While the excerpted and abridged poems below represent only a fraction of Miimley’s verse,Footnote ¹⁸ they nevertheless provide a fascinating glimpse into the political perspectives and poetic practices of Somaliland’s ‘post-collapse’ generation. Ultimately, I hope to inspire readers – and listeners – to explore this debate more fully, either via the supplementary material or by directly engaging with the many poems I have not been able to feature.Footnote ¹⁹

The poems