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Wednesday, 24 February 2016 22:57



from the corner of the room

that small red light winks 

into a nearly sleeping eye

and i, without extension cord

or regard for the hour

bound fitfully towards it 

hot, quiet limbs 

scooping at the carpet

sent from my blackberry z10 

early jokes for sweet nothings

i have a cheap phone that blinks

and you have torn mustard coat 

in a plastic envelope with no note

i lie about sewing

you lie about little

you cheat at arsehole 

then admit it,


saul leiter, early black&white

in reused wrapping,

latched with neon tape.

HAMKE clings to its underside

in pale ink

early nicknames for new lovers

we promise nothing 

so come with crates 

brimming with every shade 

of best behaviour

notes scrawled on yellow

and stuck to the kitchen counter

and then to the fridge

dropping a stick in the water

and rushing

to the other side 

of the bridge

it is here, 

through this drawer of leftovers

that my hoarder heart rifles

when you forget 

to laugh at my jokes 

on purpose

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