Monday 29 August 2011

Poetry is the worst cocktail dress ...

Where the asphalt is bitten away
An endless assault. ..
Unflinching
Flinching
The corners of my mouth
Begin to move; the laughter starts;
The eyes open wider and the light
Begins to wash across my lap...


in secret,
I suppose dress for occasion
It looks dreadful on me!


Start Again...



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