Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to grow...


Dee McMahon

Perfectly Formed

For Nicky

Yesterday and the hissing of summer vines

The ritual re-dressing of the body. Colours all shades orange and lilied, textured pure and fine. Organza gossamer sheered seamless. Flawless. Satined pelt
felt of the barely flowered. All every thing rendering a solitary silked imp unclouded un-muddied continuum
so new

That was before

Sobriety filed and fingered the filigreed form for itself, barely disguised moderate temperature taker, whiter
than thou with succour at heart, caring and paring it
down, lye peeling, sealing his fate


Beauty stole the show before the henchmen came

Perfection wasn’t in it

Don’t tell me you didn’t have a ball


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