Bereft of affection,
alas the lack
I return your embrace, dear one,
with default reservation
Myself the magician,
am too my own assistant,
have hefted my self upon the copper spike
down which I presently slide
My dear parents squint in horror
from a distance conservatively vast
a ready cleaver,
left at the ready
singing the margin
of a sunbath
Live again
pretty kid
hiding in a tree
in the middle of the street
Live again, sun bath,
metrically cut
to the standards of the Book,
writing,
“step on my neck”,
craning at the clash
of red-blooded clans,
singeing the margin,
hiding in the margin,
cleaving the sun
Live again, kid
secret curses
super secret curses playing
poker in the spine,
in the lower levels of curse
sniggering curses dealing out
plans for secret crimes
that get done without say
nor being recognized
Curses Owned, revised,
made refuse then despised,
forgot at the foremind,
and never tossed too far;
crawling back inside
and crawling pell mell