Page Title

so they slaughtered all the chickens

officials masked in postholocaust style

grabbed killer chickens with blackrubbergloved hands

sharp avenging twists

and derisive stuffing into dampfeatherfull bodybags

Herod smiles well done

approves the black trashbags he wish his soldiers had

would hold as many newborn

envies such efficiency

of course it was public good

public great in fact

they got five of ours

this was war

the hawkers had little say or to say

except accept

they were bribed

bare minimum per squawking notyetfeatherduster

what of the eggs

flung to bloodspattered tiles

splintered oozing yellow essence

clear mucusmix of dead babies

one healthworker nearly slipped

wellies slid in spent labour

that would have been real tragedy

one thought to escape

foolish fowl

blackbagged renegade run to ground in ditch

hemmed in by traffic beacons yellowflashing

van screeches up squad arrives of six

armed against venomous bbq wings

and lethal clearsoup claws

should have fired there and then

blastbasted it in lead

then filled in roadworks and tarmacked over

to lay its vengeful spirit eternal as well

a grave was dug

no chance of cremation god forbid

that would hunger the people

smell of roast enveloping the island

what a wicked tease that would be

so layer of lime like snow freshfallen on sheen of tarpit mire

then earth over

as cameras watched flies and reporters buzzed

nearby hills of discarded consumer goods

as many wreaths as Di got

health minister walked over flanked by crows

patent leather tamping down an uneven spot just in case

you never can tell with these birds

once we even thought they were safe to eat

[Dec97]

The Melting Girl

Not hot ?

Mein gott !

stringy-haired girl melting as she dangles from the railing

boiled sweats roll down ten-drilled locks

down her file

clear plastic wrapper writhing into warped sores in its wake

hightrek bag wilts off her shoulder

mock leather panting, drooping hangdog

her pores pouted, dribbling clear saline droplets

they sizzle down her arm - they'll never make it to the floor

vaporise first, I bet

she'd made herself up rather, this morning

if she could see herself she'd laugh - or cry sweat

eyebrows matted, mascara massacred

blackbleeding in still wet stains down cracking castle walls

her rouge perches in patches over her ruby frown

corners no longer sharp, blunt-edged in the baking

the day stretches long before her

straight hourlanes trembling in heathaze over blackhot tarmac

she dares not think of home too far, too hot away

does not even think of now

she holds herself above the moment dangles above the broiling

tries oh tries so hard to fly away

but the steam does not lift her high enough

convection won't carry her

she bobs instead bobtossed in the tumbleburning air

nowhere to hide in her head

no door to open for a breeze

no window to stick her head out for relief

just heat in here

heat out there

and her in between

poor melting girl