The Mourning After – a Pantoum

An illusion of intimacy
Slashes of light on sullied sheets
Held in a steel octopus embrace
Shallow breaths of poisoned air

Slashes of light on sullied sheets
Waiting silently in Pandora’s box
Shallow breaths of poisoned air
Leaden hands can’t reach the keys

Waiting silently in Pandora’s box
Perfumed bodies scent the room
Leaden hands can’t reach the keys
Coarse exhales like rusted blades across skin

Perfumed bodies scent the room
Voices vibrate through the walls
Coarse exhales like rusted blades across skin
Eyelashes threaten with every twitch

Voices vibrate through the walls
Anticipation rises and falls with the chest
Eyelashes threaten with every twitch
Evidence discarded carelessly on the damp floor

Anticipation rises and falls with the chest
Held in a steel octopus embrace
Evidence discarded carelessly on the damp floor
An illusion of intimacy

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Queen Street

The Queen unravels
upon her knees.
Goblin lights entice
with might and manners galore,
carnal desires within the doors.
She is icy still,
absent from the dispersing,
splintering crowd.
A silent self congratulate.

A suspended smile whisked
away by a trench coat.
Her perfect face
a waste of time, as rain
drags her paint down to the sea.
They play the paramedics;
snort, snuff, puff their way
up the street like asthmatic
hamsters.

Bloodied lips beg for a smoke,
addiction giving meaning to survival.
Their hands clutch masks,
as they briskly judge
who is deserving
of their fifty cent coin.

The lack of purpose stings more here.

Find Your Happy Place – A Villanelle

The bowl is full of rotting fruit.
She waits for me, a queen at her table,
puppies and kittens are always cute.

I scrape the gum off from my boot,
smooth my hair as best I’m able,
the bowl is full of rotting fruit.

I think perhaps my lipstick does not suit.
She looms before me, like the tower of Babel,
puppies and kittens are always cute

I top the list in my head, of who I would shoot,
she clutches her purse, careful not to obscure the label.
The bowl is full of rotting fruit.

I clench my teeth as the grief takes root,
her eyes catch me, tug an invisible cable.
Puppies and kittens are always cute.

I could take this town, sell the loot.
She’s nervous now, am I that unstable?
The bowl is full of rotting fruit,
puppies and kittens are always cute.