Trapped in Tins
Skin flints the lot of them
Too tight for their trousers
Hows’ they got the nerve; or even deserve
A listening post
The most gifted whistle blower: who’d know her flashing teeth
Fractured bones pickled in gin soaked dramas
Pyjamas dripping with freshly cooked jam
A damn cracked jug that split the table
Enable some comfort to the jagged angle
Caught the muscle below
Below the knee
A cuddle from the country
Fraught with mixtures of obtuse lies
Eyes all on the broken mist between the mountain and the lone wolf
A gulf between the questions; with answers clasped in iron-like fists
Let’s insist on another fallen from grace proposal
Exposed all of the racquet tears; after hitting him on the side of the head
He bled
He must be dead or at least breathing
A last
Gasp
September 18th 2017
Patrick Turner-Lee Copyright
paturnerlee.com – Etsy shop link on website – check out Xmas gifts
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