black coffee dressing gown spew

Yours for the Night:

  except not,
although I enjoy
your possessive gaze,
those fingers mapping
my body, little soldiers,
and watching you commit
what you think is me
  to memory, irrevocable,

  (you learn, slowly,
    my noise, the engorged
        vowels spilling
    from my mouth,
        and consider it your
    January achievement)

  and receiving
the cruel comfort of
strange bruises, a shared
breath reclining
between us like smoke -
    young man, I'll miss
    that obnoxious set of teeth.

__

cheated children are throwing
themselves into the sea

howling.
and the wolves snarl up

with raised fists
to corner and threaten,

enclosing.
"there will be no miracles here."

 

december

I saw a lack of comprehension
    turn the nonchalant vicious
and watched with folded arms
    as we wrote elegies,
    and took photographs,
for empty universities, hospitals
sponsored by Coca Cola, a million
children handcuffed, spoilt -

I felt a different noise
    send an ugly biased reality
through the December streets
    red-nosed and bloody
    oblivious to etiquette,
for empty universities, hospitals
sponsored by Coca Cola, a million
children handcuffed, spoilt -

    Dreamt always of 2009.

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If he has turned from being
 
A young man with a heart,
 
To a plastic bag and a belt
 
Snapped tight around a red neck,
 
Maybe all the late nights
 
And smiling men
 
Don't matter that much, after all.
 
And I wonder: did the plastic bag
 
Contract and expand with his
 
Last failing breaths -
 
Did his body provoke his reasons
 
And throb and shudder, as if screaming -
 
Did he understand what he was doing
 
Did he recognise the disease -
 
    Yet no answers ever come.