The Nocturnes

The Nocturnes

Nor should you let her in unless you know when she will leave. She is
a shop for out-of-town-ers, 
a shelf of porcelain milkmaids
with no tag around her ankles
and it’s only at the register you find the cost
is higher than you’d said you’d spend. 
 
I hate it when she acts
as if I didn’t know Be Brave’s just baby-
proofing for Grow Up,
like ants dipped into candy shells
drowning
hardening
all kicking to a standstill.
 
Notice: the carousel swan has no legs
And somebody has painted all the horses
To whinny endlessly
Like they have just been spurred.
 
Cruel, isn’t she, my love?
To tease and tempt, but only name
the price of her temptation
at the till.
 
Une botte d'asperges – Edouard Manet
you never call, you never write...

(get in touch!)
you never call, you never write...

(get in touch!)