my darling o you dahlia
of my third eye teased and pinked for
that enormous sneeze if I had any serious tigers they'd
growl and purl for you like butter
pumpkins fattening in their patches they'd be smiles wider
than water wheels or baobabs and if I
had my way it would be out of here straight past starship
enterprise to mistress joy and all
her deadly pulsars yes you mix me up and down and out
I go trala my fingers trailing fragrant
flocks of meteors or silky bolts
brighter than entire skies but each of me so animal
we curl into your palm with every pore
a pout until the universe unpicks its seams
and lets all its impossibles

Bolts

Green satin, figured with cedar and chrysanthemum, turquoise upon marine, slither, tiny steps. Whey muslin, falling plain, open weave, dried tea-leaves, tatters. Chestnut velvet, coral trim, becoming, coming out. Unbleached calico, pale and pasty, floury pastry, washed out, wash-day. Shantung oyster, stiff with trepidation, measured paces, four somethings hidden with the whalebone. Post-virginal lawn. Gabardine twill, dark sensible, weather-proof tutorial. Ribbons, ribbons, ribbons. Bombasine instructress, instructions not included.