Evening (TA)


I have retired my bolo

The sun it’s not as deep, now rain-washed

Charged wire bled and fracked

And me sleeping wet

Towel-wrapped without point or poise

Gripping rectangles in fingers lengthened

By how dry - how I see to the end of my nose

Freckling my lips in white, wasting

Red halves and drop


I have desired my work

Taken to bolting, hotter

And weeping with reefs under skins so unexplored

Surely amazed in baked soufflés of guilt and pore

Over green leaf-locked appetites and tasters

Dip dip dip
Circular in waist

Happening - present - book.