Monday, 30 April 2012

29: Cake and Diamonds

For weeks after he left I found
my lover’s hair wrapped round
plug holes, door handles,
around an old half tomato
weeping like the Virgin Mary.

Every time I opened the
wardrobe door they twined
round my fingers,
whispered myths the way
serpents sometimes do.

I ignored the hairs, I went
about life and love pretending
I was the first warm breeze
of summer. The skirts were
mine to lift and

I cavorted while the tutting
branches judged me from
behind these window panes.

When the hairs still showed up
I folded them in flour and sugar,
beat the butter till it turned gold.

I served my guests
cake and diamonds and
I ignored them while they
plucked things
from between their teeth.

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