Narrowing the gap to his birthday suit
He worships Ra
Arms open to every radioactive wavelength
In the dusty sky.
Chilblain-bound his grey haired body stands aghast
Humbled by five vein-knits of wool
Alighted, stooled at the gas radiator.
See his paper-moon curtains,
His lone safe-hope’s a painted sun
Unwarming on the wall.
Mr & Mrs
In the back seat of nicotine-slur windows
Near a ready-for-bed fig marigold.
A spent-fires filament
Does nothing to sparkle her.
She’s Munch’s ‘Scream’
Crept into a corner.
Bed-hopping eye cocked.
Harmonies persuade his hips.
The Angel Inn’s all piss and vinegar
But Vicki’s going gilt-edged.
You’re widely outposted
Foxy as 007.
You heel-tail me in dockets,
Arsy-versying my exploits.
You’ve a spy-mania, tender –
Searching for a nanny
To shine on.
But every other day I’m wild-eyed,
*the smart weed, Collins Dictionary