…

poetry stole my last rolo
& gave my cousin, clarabel
athlete’s foot

poetry became the winter wind
& frisked six nuns
standing at the bus stop

poetry shat
on the bishop’s mitre hat
when hiding in the guise of a pigeon

poetry pissed on doctor foster
rained all morning
& smoked all the catnip

poetry burnt down the scout hut too
back in twenty twelve
but was never found out

poetry dead-legged
farmer arthur-martha
then misgendered their cockerel

poetry did not shoot the sheriff
it was pfizer in his left arm
moderna in his right

but poetry drank all the vimto
& gave your great-aunt doris
crabs & lice – twice

…