Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

During the bloody catastrophe of Nightmare on Elm Street 2,

which broke all the rules established by the original,

she let me get to third base. Crooking my fingers

like a Bavarian priest reaching up the chimney to bless a smoked ham,

I suffered a visitation from doubting Thomas

in a red and green striped sweater,

the colours of which, he whispered, had been chosen

for their disruptive effect on the visual cortex.