The news of Margaret Thatcher’s death, at the age of 87, was announced during the morning of April 8, 2013. There were various attempts at a written response before this version seemed to coalesce around a final couplet and felt appropriate.
(viii) On Hearing of the Death of Margaret Hilda Thatcher (8 April)
Is it cold, any colder than these two degrees
that keep the ground above freezing
when I walk across a deserted square,
to admit, in the hours since I heard the news,
I’ve felt only the absolute indifference
of knowing nothing has even slightly changed?
Her death, like the end of any human life,
deserves its dignity, to be marked somehow,
but I ask: must the grieving now she’s dead
intrude on that for what she did?