harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking an...
i was catholic mouth-closed with lamplight in my corner eye —
that sort of schooling dirties girls in a man's hand even for you : now love's whore ; was it the dirt beneath your nails that i knew i'd find there though i paused : eyelash wavering for more
and it was cold — i was cold —
stranger husband squeezes my sleeved arm
: " you're strong — aren't you ? "
fingers teasing a tensed doll's triceps and i'm never sure what to think of that : my mouth teeters over laddered laughter and you'd think it wouldn't matter so .
but i pause . lashed and handled hoarsely and you wonder why my voice shatters in my throat each time .
(30/12/2017)
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