Hard and lacerating brick surfaces under
hot sun and a metal tank grey and metal and
cool and smooth under fingers under haptic vision and
water turning to thick ice in winter and
dead
fish
under an experimentally rainbowing fly spray surface
under hot sun and a smell of straw
A scent of damp they can smell it
infects them & their fingertips
a consciousness of thick wool in his hands
providing a negative charge to determination that's
disregarding trepidation and sleeping children and a thin carpet
infected with damp and an inconclusive desire
a tv on with the sound down
it's all about convenience and it's like a job
but open tumescent and trembling with an expectant
mistaken future
Tensing legs and filling with acid energy as they jump
and run
after a flinging of earth balls and with
a shouting of coppers coppers
park toilets muck polka-dotted
under a roaring weight of sky
They're both crying at the ersatz death of Robert Powell
no but
that's facetious and a bit mean
but tears are running down all their cheeks
and it's disturbing
one day you'll understand
the gas fire reddening child's skin
Pearl light at a rattling sash window
cutting
inside
his forehead through
a memory of speechless breathless dark
ridges of a fraying bedspread under thighs
a dark storm attempting to drag him through black glass
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