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


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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