( not wolves this time )

poetry came
& shat on the mattress
spat on my cacti
& fused my toaster

poetry came
& smoked all my tea bags
sucked my dictionary
& drank my inkwell

poetry came
so all my friends vanished
even the real ones
– i never made from plasticine

poetry came
through an open casement window
from the direction
of the local sewage works

poetry came
on a grey bank holiday
& nicked all my cravats
– the cheeky, thieving twat

poetry came
& danced on my desk
pissed in my kettle
& left me with this mess

2 thoughts on “( not wolves this time )

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