CBT*

 1.

 

How many chimeras does it take to change a light-bulb?

None. Chimeras don’t do light-bulbs.

The halo wattage of a half-imagined smile

illuminates his kitchen.

 

What kind of food is a chimera?

An egg-white omelette.

What Shakespeare character?

Banquo’s ghost?

Sexual Practice? Celibacy (selective)

courtesy of Houdini:

tie him up, he’ll slip

the bonds; in chains, he’ll wriggle;

harnessed, above a bed, he’ll squirm,

shake free; an act ,of course,

accomplished, learnt.

 

What colour’s your chimera?

Vodka. Ozone. Eau-de-nil.Or even paler.

 

 

2.

 

What kind of fiction…? A tall story.

 

This. A chimera came to your door.

He was wearing two coats. Chimera, you

asked. Are you ill? It was late Spring,

hot, by all accounts, the bodily ones were strapless,

in tee-shirts’. Chimera/s shudder,

shimmer, of course, occasionally, shag

(viz celibacy (selective))when

there’s a month (crème de menthe)

in the month. They shake with cold

even in spring because they’re

all soundwaves and particles; all atoms,

fission,; half-man; (half-biscuit?);

half tuning-fork. A chimera came to your door.

 

 

 

  

3.

 

The therapy. One text too many.

She found me searching old photographs.

Nothing. She caught me scrolling e-mails .

All blank. I stared at the window,

at a doorway, at rain. He’s there,

… waiting for me to come out.

.Honey, it’s just a doorway;

Rain. Sure it’s a rainy night.

Why did the chimera cross the road?

Because he’d forgotten he could drive

and that road’s were for driving down,

and that the basilisk, satyr, even

dumb gryphon, had beaten him into

the Guinness Book of Beasts,

those now you see it, now you don’t,

avowedly macho dudes.
Darling, at least you see it.

Now close the door. It’s getting cold.

 

 * Chimera (Ab)Bolishing Therapy