Did I ever tell you about Evangeline?
She took me on day trips to plankton
replete with crab line and shrimp net.
While she sunned in her
thigh-long pink print frock
I watched the Witch hitch sodden skirts
way off beneath the tide line
to hook rubbery, hard-shelled aliens
from tiny, countersunk arseholes in the sand.
One day
I'm struggling with the real implications of what is actually on TV
leans on the sill
sorts her knickers with a swift pinch
says something like:
see how the city fills
bleeds vulnerability
as close as you will ever get to rare beauty,
set all other forms of life aside
feel the words run
through you
then run you through

was so Gerry Anderson
she tightened her boots
with a hex head wrench
passed groomed, dark nights in velour catsuit and purple crepax wig
stalking Sodaroundalot and his foul-mouthed cuz, Ascending Remus
I fumbled with her utility belt
fished for wayward pouting off the groin
I know now that I was hopelessly drawn
we played backgammon
[– I'm a hog for you, baby – hissed the Witch. . .]
I learnt to sit perfectly still
awoke me
to the sound of reverb marimbas
bouncing their kinematics
off the shaven wooden floor
I sensed her scent
in the ductwork
her breath quickened
to the heptatonic ditherings
of ribbon-tied gourds
[– thought you said "mullet" – sneered the Witch]
my eyelids flashed
burn-ins of the Aleutians
seen from space

Valverde/Milan         November