While you
relentlessly shop
To sate your triskelion god
With small household accoutrements
Paring knives, cup hooks, sealing wax
I go out at night
Howled when black dog ate
The yellow biscuit moon
Swole the colour
Of fog blown traffic lights
Threw it up again
Poisoned tongue and aquamarine
Ruby where the tyres
Flayed the skin
Drove on hard to the point
Where all white lines disappear
In oblivion’s sunrise
I will myself to sing (sub voce)
My brute euphonies
Eagle, crow hop, hung on a string
The day spills out entrails
Almost, (not quite)
Hungry again
