| | All this talk through a shaft
of kid gloves and landmines went underground.
You were communicable my limbs
in sequels and spoofs, commemoration my organs
with friends spent, whose names like patients’ names.
Our clumped appetite stirs and how
when unwound, as with DNA, it sweetly wounds us.
Wish in the propriety locale, you said, is faith misplaced
or no wait at all. But I assert, in my dreams I reverie,
in my dreams I do not hope.
Where were you when was I? Counting down
the decades in the service of the honour as patsy of our anterior to war.
|