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April 8, 2013 | by  | in Arts Books |
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Books – Poetry

Teaching Placement

The first day in many I had not got this eyelash out
of my eye was yellow-eveninged and not so wise that
it did not become night in a matter of days
which turned into a season, darkness trapped in forests
growing amass of humanity, a plethora of eyelashes.
My new sheets were not made of skin
I do not think – trees, most hopefully
trees, growing awash with gas, drowning.

There are more atoms in the brain than stars in the sky
but, in terms of binary coding, how much porn?
“A Philosophy graduate gains great honours
in government.” I bought new sheets in a second-hand
store. Contradicting laws state that there must be
contradictions somewhere or
there must not.

White Russians flock from across the world to play
online poker in condensed Birmingham hotels.
My brand-associated, brand-proven new sheets still smell
of hotels and grown-ups, which maybe I am.
a shelf of stuffed animals, laddered tights; 100% proof.
a Martini in the Fleming in my hand.

I am an authority on almost everything, my tenuous
application quivers. Gasses flood their containers;
suffocation can occur in vacuums, or when encased
in solid blocks of concrete. My eyelashes scratched
the egyptian cotton, so I removed them all.

Only Thatcherite readings of history include
the price of a bottle of milk, but the cost of
a yearly diary is universally known. Movement is
possible, if you have time and a spare set of sheets.

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Uncomfortable places: skin.

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