Friday

you keep coming back
in a different guise.
first you were blonde with
the curly wurlies,
but now you're dark with
bloody lips and
a geographic tongue.

next you're bound to be
shimmery, so far
a blood-fluke that ghosts
inside me and talks me up.
i will be beautiful
for 0.5 seconds
in a wrist-grip called wow.

we will drink spaghetti and cry.
i'll be crime scene tape
wrapped round your head-
your eyes will be eggs
smashed into girls
from car windows.

you can tell me your
ronald mcdonalds,
and i will slice you
with the letter knife.
one moment you will think
i am the one but the next
you will think i am not
the one.

i'm rotting in front of you
of course. you undo my
bra with one hand,
i think thats new.
if i close my eyes
i feel all the mouths
and punctures
that ever were-
my skin, dreadful with joy.