Monday, 10 December 2012


guilty biology draws the
crimes and rhymes through dangerous times
though this winter sketch of pallid raiments,
the sad sack of retiring flesh,
erases the lines of entry with sharp regret
and in doubt of the wealth of its worth
instead watches the cat and the spider sat
each the other side of glass
she in a snug disdain
her in a frenzy of knitting pins


I find myself dissecting maps
my fingers trace the cut-out lines
of roads, of streets, of cul-de-sacs
but I pause before a puddle
of rendered fat and hold that hymnal sheet
for the surgical light that rips
the gelate dream that is Scunthorpe
and I can see you reading the other side
through the oily stain that hides Pontefract
it’s so nice to hear us sing together