Wednesday, 21 April 2010

been hanging out in the locksmith too long

I lost my keys and Alex has been getting a new piano lock, so I have been spending a lot of time in the key-cutters. They smell so good, like burnt metal and antique bookspines and the soles of people's shoes.


Tattoo a mortice to her wrist
so she will ever have her keys to
hand. She's been locked outside

three days this week, banished
to the kerb until the boys
came home. Bind her to the

fob or just seize her up the stairs
like Rapunzel, pull the dead bolt
close. She's been running around

on fleeted feet, round this small
town, and you're mortified. You'd
better padlock your baby down.

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