Wednesday, 13 June 2012

• Not I, said the Cat.

  What am I going to do with you?

  Your hair blonde is straw like

  Your nerves so are bright-like

  Your feelings are flitting and dulled.

  What am I going to do with you?

  Your skin pale is broke-like

  Your tongue sharp is still-like

  You will blister yourself to bleeding.

   

  Your words fit the highlights

  But your lifetime is lowlights

  And all through the spotlights

  You shiver and shake.

  You're quaking with anger

  For names on a paper

  Afraid of your neighbors

  Your life at the stake.

  You're sparkling rarely

  Champagne in an alley

  You think of it sharply

  But somethings don't take.

  You've heard of the future

  But your doubt makes you unsure

  And you're too proud for sutures

  So you don't ask, you ache.

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