Unforgiveable Acts

Euphoria is only possible
by uncoupling from affray

She rolled me over so far
that I am now low – cowed

by a fear of never forgiving
her – my youngest’s mother

I lie in beds of others’ sighs
and wake to complications

I fail to recognise myself
in their bathroom mirrors

My pilferage of toothpaste
becomes my regular crime

along with naked promises
of being a polished surface

No smears from her fingering
is my implausible defence

Off Botolph’s Bridge

This sweated disease
follows me – streaming
from her hip-rucking
bent-to rippled mounds

Her rusty dampness
is still felt overly sticky –
skin to skin – still fixed
by memory’s boiled glue

Should my rare time
be given over to therapy
again?
This is no rehearsal
et cetera – et cetera

I find myself stood
in a profited landscape
of farmed reclamation
and named drains

Boy racers play double dare
along reverse-laid cambers
as us much older drivers
tut tut tut at such

Here – in my Sussex gut –
is a hiding place
from her
with a rural life to drown in

Throw me off
Lower Wall Road
and let me float face down
as far as Hythe’s sea wall

A Price to Moor

You have found
a preferred supplier
My observance
is contracted out

Small service
is true service
he said –
but for you
it was always in doubt

You took that
online attention
and confused it
with some kind of love

Now you live
in your house by a river
where mirrors
reflect your old doubts

I found your profile
beguiling
but then found
that you lied to us both

A Lepers Squint

Our pew is set for untouchables
We watch through a hewn lepers squint
That tunnelled sightline was gouged
by your dust-bitten youth and old men

to ensure that we filthy sufferers
are kept out of your hallowed house
of slung beams – of struck stones –
of holy words – we cannot speak out

My prayers rip up before they finish
I dribble red spit from my curled lip
I implore for my ill disfigurement
to plague your stonemason’s next kiss