Baby girl pushes the chair
across the floor till daddy
sits his old fed weight there
He lifts her up and she says,
Put me down. She has her saw
-tooth squealy demand and
he has big fuck off hands
The air's all of a class here:
it wafts.
Man on news says,
I can't breathe.
I will leave skin flakes on
the table top. Squash crumbs
to nothingness.
Coffee cheerless like cheap fags.
My face is on fire never being
one of them really.
And another face falls.
This fallen face.
Say hello to some bad past rep
and pretend I haven't
forgotten her name.
All face is made to fall.
ReplyDeleteNever be one of them.
Away from the centre's where the poetry's found. (But you knew that.)
Better company too at the periphery, I reckon.
ReplyDelete