He kissed me till the morning light
He told me that I’d done all right
No. Morning was still pacing the dark wings
of night with an unlit fag, sweat stains under
her arms and attitude. Method actor morning;
that fag, wrong prop for dagger-face.Dark’s
arse, dark’s seamy ripped bitch of a lining.
Morning’s waiting with a mardy on; waiting
for your beautiful eyes to open, waiting to ‘ta-
da’ with menace. Pretty one, your whole life’s
asleep. Just let your eyes be stark, strip bare
for morning’s tasteless burlesque. Let your
eyes spread the disease. Morning’s understudy,
I can take over, one foot dangling the fetish shoe,
the other bare. Heel or nude sole? Remember
the photo: foreground, whole and half- bricks,
beyond, the Space Centre like a sliced off thumb.
I sucked that thumb. Bit hard, I think. Or was
that one of your hand –me- down dreams? Duck.
The proper one’s back. You’re flagrant, glaring.
You’re hard -on looks (tastes?) like wax. Such
a lie. Rubble, belly wound. Missing the best
shot. I passed the audition though. She lost.