Rick 2017 Surgery
Oh love
Deep jewelled fingers
clutch my heart
Veins flagrant with
dew of tears
lead the camel train of
our history
through portalled
pupils of your green
hawk eye s
Angels
knit in waiting rooms
spider-silk filaments from
tarantulas Bloated
Bottoms - they speak of
angel things
Your kindness
lights the dim and dawns
the dark
Your eyelash
nimbles nudging
giggles under saddle pads of
Doom
Boom !
You clear the room with
Tooting and fill the stars with
dance lust
Leo with a Hawk Back
Sweetness ~ you lie there
A sainted junior in a jester’s crown
Even your brown hair giggles on the
pillow as you doze
Your juniper gin purity waiting for
Suppose
Your rumpled joy sleeping under
Your brisk Hawk Nose
The scanner turns from green
to purple as
Boy spurts germs into
The cringing throng of waiting.
Hijabbed woman sweeps her robe
Tim Tumbles floor awash with beige brew
Much Ado
Paper rags are proffered
I leap to help
in my mind, but my arms say
“rest roving soul, you aren’t what you were”
Screen hangs on mented wall
A Mondrian of messages
Procedure Complete is Yellow
the colour of lions
Darling
I love your
velvet wings
that touch me
like butterflies
Gentle you are
Even the trash
revels under
your hands
Respecting substance
Essence blooms
In the museums of
your saving
Who’s Who?
I’m failing as a wife
Or flailing
In the mystery of me and you
You and me
“Try again …
Fail harder …
Samuel Becket,”
You say.
Sometimes when you look at me
With the stoned eyes of love and longing
I feel guilt nudge me with a hot poker of
Mischief and wonder if I’m
The devil.
“But the devil’s a guy,”
You say.
I write that down and you say,
“Now our whole life will become a poem,”
And laugh
And I realize –
You’re the devil.
Who’s Who?
Who’s Who?
I’m failing as a wife
Or flailing
In the mystery of me and you
You and me
“Try again …
Fail harder …
Samuel Becket,”
You say.
Sometimes when you look at me
With the stoned eyes of love and longing
I feel guilt nudge me with a hot poker of
mischief and wonder if I’m
The devil.
“But the devil’s a guy,”
You say.
I write that down and you say,
“Now our whole life will become a poem,”
And laugh
And I realize –
You’re the devil.