You’re back in motherbickered
England dumb with brick
— viper typists.
Such organized fear: rigidity as fetish
Sphincter sphunct filthiness in wainscoted ways.

Jolly ‘ol brims with againstness
“Anti-clockwise” — “Ante-natal” if you will —
The crumbling masonry of
Your “anti-relationship structure” you once called it before
You went away. Such negativity in names:
Wormwood Scrubs as prison, animal park Whipsnade
The motorshop Crimble of Staines
Kidney pie tastes like potty
Cheat never equals cheated upon.

After you left me, I bought a barrister
Besotted — blotto — up to my rooms
Is this how they do it I kept wondering,
Dull as cotton batting, without love?
In his garden variety serpentry he left
On our bodgy bed — a wrunkled skin — still crawling, crawling.

— Jeannette Allée from FIELD