Poetry Drawer: Asymmetry At Full Blast by Gabriella Garofalo

Asymmetry at full blast,
Angels nowhere to be seen if clouds
Bristling like freshers over a failed test
Get her wired –
Is it you, the shroud of blessed sleep?
Anyone here? No way.
The bloody sniper’s on the ball,
Aren’t you, my light?
So no need for ads no time for reps,
Forget slush, schmaltz,
Just let dogs snap bits of blue-green mould
Trimming corpses adrift,
Let tattooed guys sip booze and pewter skies
And glassy-eyed winos breathe starvation
As words live elsewhere, under lilac skies –
Or are they periwinkle? –
Fancy that, last night lilac flowers –
Or were they periwinkle? –
Got up in arms rotten sick of their job,
They can’t dance on her skirt, that bloody fabric –
Of course she fell face down from her bike,
See if –
Me? Oh, I woke up to a fluo light:
Anyone here? Is it you, the shroud of blessed sleep?
Sure, light, I know, God bit ruthless,
‘Cept here they are, limbs in a wheelchair
And their sulky caregivers:
Ever seen the breath of life?
Not that you can spot it,
What with mannequins in red panamas,
Sneering grins and plumpish ladies asking
’Is evil odd or even?’ –
Sure, light, I know, God bit ruthless,
‘Cept here she comes, darn, poetry here,
All glints in her eyes, waves at you
And bloody tangled in your cheap tat.

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