Sunday, 7 February 2010


The sandcastle, its fantasy, is thinning.
Wafer-thin is the sex between us,
This stranger and I on the Victoria line.
I won't smile. Not now.

Evolution is an inexplicable thing.
Biology irritated me, the way textbooks
And teachers personified science,
Gave the momentum of time and plants a will power.

This is an appeal, a space on a dating website
For lumps of puffed up poetry without rhythm.
Funny really, and cemeteries are passed
When I take the train home.

When I eat, graves are in my bowl,
On my spoon, a namelessness.
There is a draught in this house of many memories.
In my boyish bed, a man is sieving desire.

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