Category: stocking fillers

Orange on Silver

Space bomb
out of space
out of wardrobe
out of stockings
take my key
take my filth away
peel the stash of magazines
the clinging pith
the parasite segment
the squirt
and leave my family
a ripe, respectable body.

Selection Box

Choose me, Pigtails.
A cigar of a bar
stubborn with fudge.

Choose me, Roller Skates.
Soft from central heating,
caramel melting.

Choose me, T-Rex.
A bag that is air
and air and there a sweet.

Choose me, Banana.
Stick-you peanuts
and a crust of rippled cocoa.

Choose me, Gossip.
Jelly thumblets.
Crystalled with sugar.

Choose me last, Worryball.
One vicious bite
and I’ll shatter into sticks.

Coal

A snowman’s plucked eye,
a fire nest’s dislodged egg.
Stubby underworld agent
who vanishes in the crowd.
Coal, you’re a born tumbler,
bunker to scuttle to hearth
to skin you bright with dust.

Wooden Soldier

Mercenary, partisan or deserter –
young, headlong from a skirmish.
His gloss the gloss of shined boots,
of blood, of a new glass consolador.