Boris et Domics

Now fewer [less] unstructured
conversations – with fortuitous
visitors/ A spin-bawled belamy
of gagging orders & infections

Desires have fallen away [as if
his blood doesn’t crave a love]
& his hammock is still without
pushes/ His spine curves with

his hanging bend of canvas &
ropes – sunburn is a flush [kiss
of death] set to rules [lies?] by
missing ministers [a disorder –

difficulty with truth]/ Common
colds [odd at this time of year]
will catch out travelled fools &
[unforeseen] anxieties of dying

will steer bald plots to Durham
& back to other low strategies –
an actual plan to sell-off gems
& other erst national treasures

Dominic sat at a [pathetic] table
& cut a disposition [not a rose] –
as his script [of facts] scattered
to breezed sighs [by dismissals

of media complaints] – a re-spin
& no apology given/ One Nation
in lock-down is his one-line joke
on us blind-sided [stupid] voters

as curtains twitch [comparable
breezes locate a sash window –
held open by counter-weights] –
a flitted gust [in #10]/ A TV sits

alive to Sky News – a baby cries
next door & Boris yawns with a
tiredness – it wasn’t meant to be
this bloody difficult [fatherhood]

They’ll re-tie his comfy swinging
bed once those media [we don’t
anoint them as Press any more]
leave – remain – take back .. Zzz