Poem In Which
I describe ‘tulle’ and ‘chiffon’. His eyes replace mine. In which I walk with a paper bag of pears. The wind laps at my ankles. I covet the turquoise paisley dress. I relent – as you wish, as you wish. Poem in which I leave my flat to the sockless beatnik. I have enamelled ears. In which I visit The Empire of Tiny Dogs. Poem with peeptoes. In which there are splintering bones. I chuck out all...
Poem After Wayne Holloway-Smith
you wore a cotton dress over the cotton dress they scolded you for running into the sea a dress cannot save you no whitened thigh broderie anglaised knees rounded like doilies no dress will make a dolly of you still wear the cotton over ...