W8

Postcards
were our
significant method
of communication
coded
encrypted
posted
received
displayed
on mantelpieces
in victorian terraces
in W8
until they curled
around the edges
folded
when they could no longer
take the heat

Soft Focus

What purpose does it serve
if we go out
get drunk
stumble into old patterns of behaviour
it’s just an interruption
of the negative space between us
lust in soft focus
but afterwards
we will be more beautiful
for having been broken

Pixelate me

Pixelate me
encode my features
in blocks of calculated colour
hung out to dry
in 64 pieces
dehumanized in graphic detail
and reflected in the whites
of a wall of human eyes

 

* ¬†Inspired by Ellsworth Kelly’s “Colours for a large wall”

Metaphor

I kept the poem you wrote for me
like a talisman
folded in the dustcover
of the book of
Mayakovsky poetry
that once was yours
a metaphor
shielded from contamination
fuelled by
russian vodka
and prose

Bouquet

The scent of those twenty roses
won’t hide the stench
of our exponential
decay