New day has a fabric rip The pyrethrum scent of last night’s neglected pans Basmati and burnt metal Slept with the sun inside Woke weakly flailing In your bite, a hard, machinic smile A ridge against my wrist like sunrise Broke a mouse’s neck A small, uncoiled scream Dragged up the hinge The bared teeth, gladiatorial in glory The tongue an ugly twist Imagining a thousand crucifixions Along the Appian way These brief lives another paltry annoyance Marking the dwindling distance Between failure and victory
Tag: mouse
This house on fire
The library makes the small mouse noises Of a patient after defibrillation I have eaten my way through several volumes Of the intimate correspondence Of poets and kings Learning (almost) nothing Except the peculiar bombast and reserve Turned in that intimate, sinister way To bemusing incriminations Of those who know their private thoughts After death will be widely dissected A particularly servile aggrandisement (The fireplace alive with sparks) To providence and The self-important moment Knowing (almost) nothing I gnaw on While grandiloquent lives become The substitute for everyday dissection Limbs splayed and pinned Entrails and misdemeanours Humbly and shamefacedly arranged The map (almost) illegible With that turned half away Scalpel bright But strangely grief-struck grin