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yellow monday
platform 2
in platform shoes
being watched
the lady I buy
the paper from
the man who wants
the freshest lotto tickets
the dawn train
won’t come
fast enough
a smog
of unclassified desire
clings like a two-year-old
follow me home
don’t touch
watch
the tough skin cracks
down the spine
out seeps a vision
in wet lace
I’m asking your patience
wings take time to master
to spread, to engineer
a fragile ownership
I’m not ready
though I’ve been buried
years
and this paper says
it’s jackpot day
a warm whir
in my belly
the train comes
and I shoot off
into sunrise
this carriage
hostile as a plastic nappy
keep my
spine straight
who’s a pretty tranny
there’s cleaners
shift workers
drug dealers
teenagers
and me
I fell a long way
to get here
my maker was
unforgiving
fusing
shrill insignia
faux feelers
two sets of wings
I spanned legend
I’m softer now
cushioned in my house
but the body
round my wishes
needs work
a devil’s project
his laser
eyes his piercing
sucking mouth
I am his
figurine I want to
break
open my music box
to suffer his
recurring dream
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