Fly Tipper by Charlotte De’Ath

you must go – you’ve been caught red handed soiling silver linings

in the thick of all those thieving manifestos

you picked pockets stole precious lockets

forged them into a meddle of honour

to be

presented by a statue of some dead king or queen or whatever

as we danced all night pretending to be fire flies – you romance blasphemer

you bastard

you must go – you unnamed curse

of a disease don’t pretend to be the boy next door

you ripped the wonderland out of my alice

and dumped it on the side of the road to peter pan’s playground

a dereliction of fire beyond anyone else’s control


my charcoal shadow

has absorbed all the gas you’ve exhaled

crossed its shadowy arms and cried buckets at the bitter taste

but i am not the tragic heroine of your movie

or the broken bits of your tales tied up on railway lines

you might claim to have left me behind

but when the credits roll

it’s you that must go


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