Demonic vine
Mon divine
Demo/s in s/lime
Your pillow is a case of mistaken identity.
Your back is an arching spine of misdemeanour.
And I have done nothing
but utterly dishonour you.
You have a look of the most desirable malnutrition.
You have a kind of pocked skin that resembles freckling without pigmentation.
Would it be disasterous
Were I to quake this yurt?
And would it be
Just terrible
Were I to weave you napkins from my own yoghurt?
I have a fancy of seeing them
All about your pigeon breasts
Wrapped up like bacon
I’ll bring the sausages
If you like
Or not, whatever, it’s your call.
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