Even though I have next-to-no interest
in borderline celebrities quickstepping
for applause, this is how your/our Saturday
nights trickle by. For others it may be
a back massage, a meal out with jazz music
slinking its way across to our table, but no,
for you/us, television, flatscreen. It’s easier, you say,
to order in, and though it’s not every Saturday
this time I made the call and I tipped
the guy ten percent, said thanks very much,
and that’s how now I’m sitting next
to you on our second-hand IKEA sofa
eating egg fried rice, chewy Kung Po prawns
in a slippery orange sauce, cashew nuts
and chicken from the steaming foil tub,
mouth a muddle of flavours as you
judge a dancer’s dress and give a score
out of ten as even I, surprisingly so,
become entranced by proceedings,
a smile appearing on your face.

morning donation
like blobs of memory

remnants of night’s mischief
sets green ablaze

with transparent poetry
transient grammar

will try to be good
hold your hand in thunderstorms
lightning in your name

---

will try to be good
ask the trees to yawn their limbs
reside in shadow

---

will try to be good
sync hearts to rhythm of night
drizzled desire

---

will try to be good
set our ellipsis alight
tomorrow’s burning

---

will try to be good
repeat as though private prayer
breathe holy sunrise

The makeup, gifted to your girlfriend, looks
good on you. It’s not the first time. On the carpet,
they have to comment on you, ***** approval
to stay lean, keep you cloud-floating.
                                                                ­ First,
lightly dab the eyelids with azure
stardust, glitter strings like wings out
from the corners. White shirt may look normal
but is designer baby, season’s income
on skin-clinging fabric, enhances
your slathered-on nectarine tan, abs
the Peloton made.
                                 THIS POEM
IS SPONSORED BY V/AIN. LOOK HOW
THIS APP AUTOMATICALLY EDITS
YOUR PHOTOS BEFORE YOU EDIT THEM FURTHER!
THE WALL IS WARPED? NO BOTHER! CLEAVAGE
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FOR TEN PERCENT OFF.
                                         The balcony offers
an ideal view for photos, minimum of fifty.
You know it’s like shooting a plasticine movie,
moving your glossy features an inch at a time because
one bad move means one less like, one less
stranger misspelling their admiration.
Each emoji is a pellet of sugar, each five-digit
paycheque another two-page spread in the city’s
many gaudy rags, another slap in the face
to the barista making ends meet.
                                                           Oh who cares
darling? They serve, and so do you. The mirror
salivates at your sight, lips out, stench of wealth
enough to make any gaggle giddy.
Parade your brand of vain for the next-in-line,
Fahrenheit on the rise, the influence
on the ravenous nosebleed-inducing.

…Run with the first line
then decide the form,
short line
or longer and whether punctuation
will be prominent throughout.

- By this point include a colour
but not basic red or blue,
something more visual
like RASPBERRY or… BLUEBERRY;
a part of the body is a fine

idea too, so mention …  runway …
of stubble, then a line or three
about weather, how raindrops
play skinny melodies
on the windows or sunlight

flirts - between - the curtains
as you sleep (mention another
person here, you are not
that interesting). Bring in
an unclear observation;

feet of treacle
make hurdling a challenge,
mist will only sting
if static for too long.
- Bring the piece

to a conclusion now.
Make trifling edits if necessary.
Only you can stamp
the page, declare this waffle final.
Name the poem.

LGW to SYD,
flight through time,
a while to while

away the hours.
As evening begins
its inky descent

to sleep, furry
green batons
trigger electric frazzles,

icicle-blue horns
exhaling light.
All we are

singular, miniature
among a crew of upturned
magenta roots.

the flames
are engaged
in that wicked dance again

licking all spines
with buds that scald
carnival of scars

each shameless twist
gift-wrapped in yellow
every coppery belch

a steaming stench
into rust-daubed sky
its silent gesture

rampage of hollowing
tongue-heavy haemorrhage
laced with ignition