166
The air of Jaffa gone
The spicy breath of life now wasted
Are we here in better years?
World of voices
Whispers trickling
Assailant perfume mouth of wealth
with an arm of needles
The skin gives in
And craves the flesh of polished animals
When kissing finally turns to eating.
The air of Jaffa gone
The spicy breath of life now wasted
Are we here in better years?
World of voices
Whispers trickling
Assailant perfume mouth of wealth
with an arm of needles
The skin gives in
And craves the flesh of polished animals
When kissing finally turns to eating.
167
Here are the rocks
That we choked on
Those swallowed with broken teeth
Gravy-less yet eaten with three hands
Look at this saintly king!
Little left over the bone
Torn limb gathered then strewn beneath the blade
Splashed fingers wing un-bitten across the Boyne
All this chewed faith
I hate dirty eaters.
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