Byron wouldn’t have stood a chance

if the world of his time had the mass media

exposure, constant Google up-load

and Facebook name and shame being urged upon

by the two a.m. giggle fit of the warm and instantly forgiven

rant telling like it is, and the recriminations of the following

morning text, you know what you called him girl?

He may have revelled for a while, more so than Percy,

in the hashtag-moustached hag, mad, bad and dangerous

to know, but would have been concerned