Aubade
Curled by the window
curtain pulled back just enough
I witness the distant greying in the east.
The duvet spilling from the abandoned bed
exposes warm and tangled sheets
but you’re already pulling on last night’s shirt.
Guilt, so easily beaten down
by eons of familiarity and last night’s lust
raises it’s muzzle ready to nip and gnaw.
You run tired fingers through your tangled hair
I whisper Use my comb.
It’s still so early and far too late
as the front door quietly closes and I begin to strip the bed.
In the kitchen, fingers curled around a coffee mug, I listen
as the radio struggles against the washing machine’s tedious grind
and I hum along to some familiar tune of pain and regret.
Dolorous Haze
The room hums with hormones,
all those lovely Lolitas smiling, sighing,
pouting their sugar-pink lips
crossing and uncrossing their legs.
He watches through the heat-haze, imagining
sharply jutting hips, curving bellies,
gently rounded breasts: he longs to map
this geography of undiscovered countries.
He knows they’re telepathically flirting,
provoking, teasing, testing him.
He wants to lick the backs of their knees.
Dirty thoughts buzz in his brain like blowflies.
The air is heavy with expectation,
they’re observing him, waiting
for something to happen.
He licks his lips, smiles, makes eye contact
Class dismissed.
I Should be Looking at the Stars
I’m throwing my childhood scenes away.
Crumpled and lying in the gutter
all my unwanted memories
slither away down the drain.
You’d say they were lies, that I made it up
I long to give you the truth.
The scar from vicious scissors throbs on occasion.
Anything at all makes me mindless with wonder
under the impression that I still feel.
In the hope of making it bleed, I insert a bitten nail
I never could leave well-enough alone
I never could leave well-enough alone
in the hope of making it bleed I insert a bitten nail
under the impression. That I still feel
anything at all makes me mindless with wonder.
The scar from vicious scissors throbs. On occasion
I long to give you the truth.
You’d say they were lies, that I made it up.
Slither away down the drain
all my unwanted memories.
Crumpled and lying in the gutter
I’m throwing my childhood scenes away.
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