We dance the dance
And sing softly of Nottingham Lace
(She wears the moon on her face)
We find our way
Even with my underdeveloped sense
Of left and right
Curling up and unwrapping
On comfortable sofas
Midnight trips and dancing in the aisles
An Angel warming the chill of the morning
Tears in the cemetery and poignant introductions
Instead of the one for you one for me cigarettes
Helpless laughter at Press 1 for-
And falling off at Board Meetings
History anew with smiles
And speculation
Stone cities smiling and
Visitors books inscribed with joy
A hand on my belly and
A bucket of bears and a canonized shrine
Borders explored and Expletives Deleted
Soft whispers as you stroke me awake
My clothes all but ripped
Fucked half asleep by your feverish beauty
Cathedrals and candles for the dead
‘One for your mam’ makes me cry
But a blue stone made me Believe
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment