Pinballed

By Mike Bell Poetry No comments

An incessant ring – ricochets
off cold button slappings –
leaves me rolled by misses
off others’ flickering wrists –

in a too-fucking-quickness

Punched untouchable parts
sing in summoned recoils
of ringtones – ready taunts
as another highest score rolls

against my own low tally

These lights and chimes
of mechanical retorts
wear down my defences
as my bent-to body flips

in my mind – fantasy ways

We keep quid balls rolling
We paddy-whack in arcades
of resized penny slots –
now upgraded to pounds

into adult-paying games

Mike Bell Poetry

Mike Bell aims to write 10,000 poems, stick them up here one at a time, and then take a nap. By then he should be about 85 years old and have out-gunned PD, dementia, and the end of days. Possibly. Before the floods and fires. Mike Bell is found working for money as a freelance set designer.

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