shoot all of your flesh
away
from years ago
say to the world
it’s here
make shapes from serviettes
when the service is slow, don’t worry about the crowd and
shower – quite literally
in the company of your dinner mate
let the cars roam as animals roam
let all of your lips cascade
into one floating hole
that waits before dinner comes, brought by some stranger
removing the day
from the plate
i am the sequins of your dress
your are my sleeves
rolled up
and reaching for
bread;
i refuse that you should sit opposite me this table – so i pull your seat
                       over, and instead of just waiting for the food
                       i pull you nearer
the staff and the clamour of utensils die
                       tonight there is nothing but us, passing
“how come you don’t like sitting opposite?” You ask me
that’s weird!

Aye and the table is white
and we’re dressed ready for the world
as
(s)he salutes us within our eyes;
nothing can take me away from your dress,
we’re frozen in flux
as the waiter comes;
and the city shifts
outside.