July 13th, 2014



My wheel and loom are smashed. The goddess tore
my tapestries to shreds and threads. My eyes
kaleidoscopes. The room a different size.
I cannot see the colours any more

that once I wove. My webs are line and curve
abstracted thoughts turned in that trap and seize.
My love kissed mouth turned mandibles. With these
I sting and rend. No more than I deserve

Some poet said for boasting. Mile by mile
from aching gut I spin a silken rope
to trap not flies but gods. It is my hope
to see them limed like little birds. I'll smile.

Sated as when I fuck, then kill, a mate,
then snip their heads off, neater than a Fate.


Too moving picture perfect to be real
after the screening's over. Kiss in rain
under umbrella. Hug, then kiss again.
Some passers-by applaud. We almost feel

emotions to go with the dripping scene.
Hold hands and giggle knowingly. Then take
black coffee and a sticky chocolate cake
with sprinkles. As if we are both sixteen.

Remember.When reality asserts
over the next few hours. Delight and charm
were real. Her lips just slightly dry. Her arm
firm on my waist. Hours later, parting hurts

Not much. When next I see her, we are friends;
Best romances are short and have clear ends.