Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Drew- Three Poems


in your bed i don't feel so
even though so much is unfamiliar
like the swelling tide of london
traffic and your clock makes a different
sound a metronome counting in
an air of morning

i'm watching you floating on the
day's infancy as the traffic noise
splashes against the windows
and empty milkbottles
on your doorstep gossip with
the milkman

under the duvet i snuggle
into the warm island of you
explore your coastline with
the moon pull of my fingertips
map my reflection
in your dream eyes
oh you've got such
deep dream eyes

brushing the stars away
you say
morning babe
sun kissed incoming tide
in the ripples
of the morning after


my bed socks are poetry
my bed a womb in afterglow
my toes like curled embryos
my position foetal as i lay alone
my love plan was made in taiwan

my broken sleep spooked and un-dreamt
my whispered longings now never said
my dresses look like ghosts of me
my epitaph reads ‘died unnaturally’ 

my haunted heart has memory
my bed socks are knitted poetry
i’m cold
come back my love and cuddle me


i’ve been doing this
it seems like forever
yet you said you’d be quick
my jaw’s beginning to ache
i’m not that keen on the taste
i’ve been caressing the base
teasing the tip
at least pretend to
care for my welfare
after all i’m the one
that’s got sick in my hair

believe me boy
it is all your fault
pushing down that hard on
the back of my head
trying to stick it right down
my throat
what did you expect
although i am a little sorry
i got sick dribble on yer 501s
just don’t shout at me
and there’s no need to swear
after all i’m the one
that’s got sick in my hair

never been lacking in my
ability to please and
in my experience boys
so often do it
with disappointing ease
but now with all this mess and fuss
all you go on about
is if i’ll finish you off
you made me gag
i almost choked to death
tonight has been a total mare
promised so much
ended up with sick in my hair