wicker basket dignity

"to our beautiful child

i said and we

drank them down"

some mornings

its easiest to pretend

that you drank

yrself dead

like Jane

i am gripped by

nerves and grief

reach through smoke

drink down coffee

toast the questionable

conception

sponge child might

be a giant at three

months by now

"the stallion who will mount

the world"

i have big ideas

about independence

day this year

yet part of me

will remain

behind you in your

mother's bathroom in

some waterfront town

still sowing, cock swollen

hands pulling that

impossible hair

fingers invading that

impossible mouth

i never believed

and i can't help believe

but i still don't

believe you played

safe or

played fair, a

three-sided square

with all of me

spilling out the lost

line;

i hope my seed

never finds

purchase again

my visions turn to

a scene of

cat daddy and cat

mommy rolling

down 26 in

a small red car

still somewhere stained

by my purest

essence and memories

while granny and auntie bean

bicker and draw

them both in,

they each and all deserve

each other,

self-respect of all

four flickers up like

wicker basket dignity,

burns in the road

or on the beach

under a rain of

paper, sulphur, spectacular

lights

"where's my baby, why'd she leave? don't you know we're on the eve of 32 footsteps? counted 'em myself: 32 footsteps."

(apologies/acknowledgements to buk, g.r.r.m. and TMBG)