Print This Page

window-lickers.

I took the short cut

through your heart

emoticons, predictive texts

my thoughts provoked –

alighting from a dream

 

nailed my colours to the mast

wore my heart on your silver sleeve

it’s me time now

working this lie

channelling this contagion

openly hard

 

fission chips bench-seasoned

with salty tears

warm steamy papers

tell William

what to think

and Kate,

the people’s virgin

 

the expanse of the day stretches out

your dissected ventricles

laid bare

insertion fees

in electrons paid.