The old doorman coughed | 1 |
hocking phlegm in a silk handkerchief | 2 |
rain filled his pockmarks | 3 |
his smile insincere | 4 |
as a Chelsea mans handshake | 5 |
vice like, tepid. | 6 |
| |
At the end of the street | 7 |
where cold wind is stolen | 8 |
by the shish kebab shop | 9 |
she walked towards me | 10 |
each step leaving Adidas | 11 |
on cart worn pavements. | 12 |
| |
Check in desk pseudonym | 13 |
walnut reflection devil | 14 |
crumbling from an East London voice | 15 |
‘sign ere and ere love’. | 16 |
| |
Doused by her bleached meat | 17 |
a painted noose strangled me. | 18 |
when I kissed her chest, | 19 |
Jesus danced on a silver noose | 20 |
falling into my mouth | 21 |
leaving bread wine and bitter metal. | 22 |
| |
My pockets turned green | 23 |
and Tchaikovsky brought my wife | 24 |
vibrating out of my pocket | 25 |
in a chariot of light | 26 |
till it laid face down | 27 |
next to a pink bow on black lace. | 28 |
| |
‘This is wrong I said’ | 29 |
and left with my umbrella | 30 |