I dream in bunny rabbit girls clad in bunny rabbit curls. Soft. Down, a sculpted
thigh,
back of the thigh,
swelling coat hanger loaded with the dress oh, yes, that’s a rare thing
ripped-out like whisky in the bathroom after the after party
on the deck
where the sun meets the
lip of a no, not sky, sea.
Greatest, big-nothing tranquil that we ever did saw,
why it’s a trade here
– name me another and i'll pay you in
spices,
from the box in my cupboard (it’s multi-coloured).
Spring thing built for tumbling not ibuprofen packet,
or my mother, but the plastic, down the stairwell
I washed it in the bath, the spring thing. Along with the fishing set.
Magnetised those eyes to the innocent rod which now swift faucet-drifts
choke-hold for: vain-tinged iris
Mirror nemesis dopamine temptress
translucent as the coy carp’s gleam
It’s dirty in the night time
In 20 years my senior, and yours in fact
when the shuttle, half the speed of
light, has reached all seven of those,
c i r c l i n g p l a n e t s n o t u n l i k e o u r o w n
except low musky amber skies hang the sixth
and the faint trail of lilac streams that seventh ocean midriff
We will see how:
Opposable thumbs / Mudanjiang’s dairy farm / The RDS 220 hydrogen / Burj Kahlifa /
Nesquik corporation / every oil spilled blackened feather / and the final cull of the Amazon’s
palmed tree
( c u t i t s l i f e l i n e w i t h t h e w h i m o f g y p s y t e l l e r )
– were all such dirty work.
But not in that form of sly
which leans into
s / u / l / t / r / y
but the kind of pitiful
brown eyes of the dairy cow
rules the roost in planet two
and “us” all in cages
U V A f o r s u n, a n d a p a c k e t o f p o w d e r b r e a d