18.03.25
Sunflowers in Coca-Cola bottles
pink filis & its cages rented
more milk dispensaries
than ATM’s left at home all day
light bulbs in daylight
aerosolised, manic
ambulatory OXI
ballerinas siesta in jogging bottoms
I looked down before he went
the way of the rest & your name,
poverty on white slab factory return
white clay, boot christmas
& always those gray masks
on balance the handle
to remind me of prayer
that is, your neck.
Mercy is this ant vulnerable,
nocturnal leaves on a fortnight pattern
pale words come out of your face
pale grille moths
attracted to some linen
all this whiteness
odourless pure whiteness
of prayer the edge that speaks
c o m p a s s i o n.
And you speak your name
that is, poverty.
