Bathroom Blues
--
I.Moulting
Every night, I
shed my
skin, and
lie at the peeling,
orange tub
Torso
limp, like a
new born
Mermaid
I cling to
flimsy
pantyhoses
as old ladies, wear
oily fish-skin
on their udders,
wondering when
puce polka dots
‘neath collarbones
would be Art.
II.Bad Dream
Every night, I
dream of
little, unaware
girls, with blind
sweet onion
nipples
and, lily skin
and, drown my
matty, greying
mane, in murky
bathroom broth
and, keep holding
breath, till I
feel his
mangled
knuckles, on my throat
III.Martini
Every night, I
smash
a sterling
wine glass
shaking, cynic
on shattered
shards
wishing I’d
never
drink again
Also, trying to
remember
if there’s
one more
spare piece
in the cupboard, for ‘morrow.
IV.Bloom
At Summers, I
stare at
moonlit
windowpanes
looking for
Magnolias
in full bloom
Instead, red
larvae
squiggle, and
a tiny, fuchsia
sea flower
smiles through the glass vase.
V.Breeze
Outside, the
coconut trees
swivel, to the
mad wind
bald little
Blackbirds
droop off to sleep.
There are still
Fireflies
inside my mouth
Perhaps.
So I
raise myself, and
dress myself, and
dial a fidgety
boy in
sepia
with battered
Yellow roses
from a
decade ago,
drawing dreamscapes
on tiles.
