Saturday 19 January 2013


Nemesis

Gatecrasher One was gutted by flames and now
 a river’s rushing towards Wicker Arches.

A half-submerged ambulance’s lights
still flash crazy-blue and she thinks there’s a disco.
Ecstasy-fuelled she discards her white fluffy boots
and wades into the chilling waves.
A piece of shit floats by.
She sees the swan and she thinks that if she’s Barbarella then
this must be Pygar. She strokes his glistening throbbing throat,
in awe at his elegant form, safe in the knowledge:
An angel doesn’t make love. An angel is love.
His yolk-yellow beak bites at her nipples and swollen,
unfurled wings ensure his rapture, her rape.
Her mother sits at home and watches it all on BBC News 24.
‘Oh Leda,’ she sobs, ‘Oh Leda, my child.’  She watches it all as
her daughter washes away the slime and swims off to await the hatching,
clutching a torn-off feather.

1 comment:

  1. Love this, but it really picks up at "A piece of shit floats by." I almost want ti to start there, but hey I didn't write it and I'm always too busy meddling with things. Great Stuff!

    ReplyDelete