Salted

The snow recuses itself from the grass, but

retains my sole, though my

thoughts are salted with

such impurities the snow

should surely melt.

Advertisements

GIF

Do you know you are a GIF in
someone’s Performance Art? The
gold in your blue uniform glittering in
old sun, your hot-pants emphasising your
long dark legs, your
silver batons never quite
twirled above your
shy smile.

But then we are all a GIF in
someone’s mind, some moment
burnt, looped in the soul, some
mannerism eternally annoying, some
gesture that caught in the throat, a
split second when the mask slipped, and
your face cracked open with a
shy smile.

Failed State

Sometimes I feel like a Failed State

ringed by impassable mountains,

snow-bound or sun-blasted, good only for

one thing which is now exhausted, the

mines closed, the factories boarded up, the

currency debased and worthless,with

prissy NGO’s up my arse, a

lack of basic sanitation, the smell

creeping up valleys to warn the neighbours to

steer clear, the ‘phones cut off,

loans called in, knockings on the door and a

kind of heaving in the chest of

despair and freedom.