Chemical Love
I found that place, I imagine it square,
your inch-by-inch patch, an emanation
a waft of pool chlorine,
always there;
here I returned with my buried face,
after a night on another sofa, my choice,
to avoid my beer talking to you
in your sleep;
I had woken, flying, with the late-brush
toothpaste taste – a chalky coating
over my reflux’s
mouthed complaint.
All my morning pains were blown
by my non-prescribed drug of choice,
a resin block, squared
inch by inch.