What havoc harries the entryway!
Not this day, he murmurs, not this day.
To say it twice removed by lingering.
All the fingers in the world
can’t touch us now.
Who is she to call me that?
A pale ass-hat to crown the Word.
What a freakish bird she is.
What a freakish…
Soon the sense of wanting to let go
tumbles through the fog,
and the back catalogue of misery
comes to pinch our baking eyes.