That, And the Reckoning …

He’s promised to cut an autumn hedge,

Been putting it off – and he knows it –

But this is the time for the shears,

That and the reckoning. For long pendulum moments

He stands: foolish, forlorn, close to being forsaken,

A million and more Perdition Highway miles

From being forgiven. The truth settles closer,

Like a must-wear shroud.

His fingers, fumbling in the act of

Bringing Lucifer to one more forbidden fag

Falter and shake: no boat for him,

That was just chewing smoke.

But he has reality’s answers to seek,

Before the tendrils of insidious truth,

Of Hallowe’en mist strangle the colours

From All Soul’s Michaelmas daisies

And the fallen clock sundown

Summons the oyster fungus shades.

Next to the Fact …

Again I’ve been dreamin’; the one

That always has me feelin’ like screamin’:

Wakin’ up in a place I know but don’t remember, last

Night’s warmth, passion an’ promise already coolin’ fast.

When the friends that I wanted were out

And the ones that I met were not.

Drifted to the palace game, realising I

Knew neither the names nor the rules. Later

At the accident club the edges were dull, the

Twice-warm’d wine and cheap skin-sin far too pale,

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No Tomorrow-Chains.

So much sun-on-butterfly-wing colour here;

Princess on the table.

“No strings,” she begs, “let there be

No tomorrow-chains.

I’m asking for nothing more

Than one night’s freedom skies;

Perhaps a whole lot more

Than you dare promise …

But, before you shake your head,

Hear this: I am willing

To accept your lies

But you have to be convincing.”