Thursday, 3 May 2007

Thursday Again 22:37

Not God but a swastika

Daddy I have had to kill you

I think at some point I looked at my father

I came at night to the dark house

I lay the suitcase on Father's bed

It is eighteen years ago

There he is, just where he should be

In those days, when my father was still big

You come to help me measure windows, pelmets, doors

My mother has gone and bought herself a piglet

In the strange quiet I realise

The assitant holds her on the table

It was three o'clock; all day we sat with her

We went in to make love

I would like to watch you sleeping

Once in a room in Blackpool we had to make do

I remember the nights and the sounds of the nights

We could never really say what this was like

Seeing you makes me want to lift my top

The thin goat, staked out in the clearing

On a quiet street where old ghosts meet

Hot Cross Buns

I love you without knowing why, or how, or where

Perhaps you'll tire of me, my love surmises

There is a kind of love called maintenance

Tanner Hop

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