God, she thought
I'm turning into
an automatic clamour,
scientific and viable
*
everyone interrupted
an urge to apologise –
more money, more acclaim, no body
*
half-sang, to dislocate reluctance
*
She looked beautiful.
bad news was softening
a warm wind over horror
till that hissed; and evaporated
overwhelmed - a ball
bounced under a heap or torsos,
banging the bed against a brick wall –
shouts over his shoulder,
so shocked, no male fantasy
|