hurtface (after Ceravolo)

i come home late like a man

like a stranger // zebra-headed & foreign & sit 

down at the table to write poems cos i want to

put my key in the door & keen 

& cry for my flat old places

fall asleep on the keyboard 

& reblog the universe fuck 

with my long sad dick every last utensil 

  put on whiskey & strip

in the garden, have an irksome & scritchy

fight with next door’s pets // eat & vom the flowers

flowering on my face the face of 

        my stupidness today

listen:

i sing when i work & i work all the time

with lovely wifi & a sharp clean sharpie

& my big girl knickers all in a twist

around my throat.  i have drawn you

a face to wear & it is my face & it hurts

me.  but whatever comes you’ve come 

           thru the door & in your own 

face with your job & a bag of food –

o bum!  o joy!  o bloated world!

what dreams i am on the stairs of!