Thursday, 5 April 2018


When I say bad blood I don’t mean blood
that’s misbehaved. When I say humour

will you laugh or check your bile?
Phlegmatic’s just another word for mouth

breather but without leeches
how’ll we ever drain? I’ve been clagged.

I’ve been the wayward daughter
plum fruit stretched against skin.

I have already burst.

The dogs from the next town
licked my seeds from warm stones.

Their tongues were bath mats and property.

When the dogs smiled the seeds
were small black sails in their teeth.

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