you know, this dance is
just more lurching in the dark
let’s talk in the light
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relationships
provider
my aphelion
father is a person too
an oedipus, next
walk
i hope you don’t walk over
everyone like this
not everybody’s concrete
or heavy sand
there are some whose feet are made of clay
inscribed with feathers
they fly unsure
too close to the ground
listing, to and fro
without sound
and you know who they are
i hope you don’t walk over
everybody like this
in your dollar store sneakers
and capitalist genes
evolved, like no other
to symbolise fear
and the shock of the nude
a fornication of ideals
and the stillborn bloodshot hump
of a blistered nation
given up and over
in it’s salad years
i hope you don’t walk over
everyone like this
make of this what you will
the template of whore
you know tearing off
thin strips of ripped skin
is not massage anymore
not in anyone’s book
but it’s a catwalk snap
trapped nerves and singularities
winking at paparazzi and working it
back to me every time
with your size fives
walk/don’t walk – green light/red light/wait
online, wasting time, blind
drunk footfall on my spine
I hope you don’t walk over
everyone like this
or|chasm
the gender abyss
women romantacise sex
men don’t give a shit
sick squid
you know, i pity the fool
who gets sucked in by you
there was an eight to one bargain plea
taken out by a jury of able seamen
and disabled heathens, replete with catgut
and the souls of little children
but life went on; repeat, repeat
while your many hands made work of me
you’d think you’d elicit sympathy
looking so tentacley and shit
but no, public opinion’s not cephalopod
friendly, it seems, so you’re left high
and dryin’ out on the harbor wall
where it all began, back in 2004
when i recall the first time i saw
your legs and the small
of your back and your shoulders
quite broad, and i thought “she’s a sort,”
you know, for a bird with a face like
Neptune’s sock drawer
then we got married, didn’t we?
on brighton beach, we stood in the sea
and you laughed because i fell over a wave
and i laughed because it was my perfect day
even soaking wet in a suit, I wanted to be there
i wanted you, and sure enough, post reception
we went back to the suite and we made love
in eight positions, it was a steamy affair
four arms and ten legs, slime on the chairs
and then we had bruce, our son and heir
a beautiful kid, he takes after you
except he doesn’t look like a squid,
which is really good news
ten years further on, it started going west
when you flirted with bruce’s judo teacher
laughing at his shitty jokes and suckering his chest
one night, i went to see him, to knock him out cold
but he put me in a choke hold and i passed out
and pissed myself in front of all the kids
and then they started calling bruce “pissy squid biscuits”
whatever that means, and we started to fight
every night and he cried and he cried
and he begged you to live with me
but you had the law on your side
cold and oblivious, they gave him to you
the situation was ridiculous,
because you’re three quarters terrible mum
and one quarter hideously amphibious
soon after I heard you’d hit the bottle
the stress of being a single mum
it hit you harder than most, I suppose, because
you can drink eight bacardis at once
but at least I got him back, little bruce
he’s safe and sound at home with me
and luckily he can’t see you now, head bowed
and naked, falling into the sea
you’re dried up and worthless
Kelly Mari
prayer
a sensei of guilt
choking on regret before
i’m under your quilt
the “ex” in dyslexic
spice up our love life?
exploring NOT exploding
awkward date night sex
