Embrace
a thick skin of milk
develops over my thoughts,
wrinkling without
consent, everytime I
sigh. To you it means
nothing, for you are the
tit-squeezer, squirt
farmer, tipping the
cream bucket with
careless rough hands
sitting down for a cuppa,
stirring the milk;
until it is safe enough to drink.
The Missing Pillow
after Sei Shonagon
how rudely the orchid
snaps in your hands
so pale, so dry,
it soon crumples
warmly, from the
heat of your thigh
*
remember when the
dragon wrapped
around your hips,
the slender cool hss
but when you woke,
it fell like burnt paper
crisp, and dissolving
in the snow
*
I want to send you
a swan on a plate
not dead, serene
enveloping you with a fan
*
As you clasp your book
check the printing of your
palms, don't sigh, but
read
clapping lips, as
want does flies
foes dies
