markbousfield

Alone With a Friend in Albion

In a hula-hoop of joy I envied the swish of your tail,
the finest of furs,
the thickening of paint on the walls
levied with taxes of course,
taxes of closed eyes and supposed howls to the moon,
yes the moon,
a taxidermy of love all balled up in my balls,
those stupid things,
a cascading shadow of promise,
a blacknote of charity,
a machine screaming in tune with the angels,
if only they remembered to bring the damn ink reels.