Sunday, October 27, 2013

27 October 2013



Mick

                                             when she says it's Jagger
                                             I step out, walk into space
                                             & look up into his face as if to say, hey
not immediately                     now you get to meet me
sought after                                                                he can't think
nor swept up by                     swiftly — say no — so he takes my hand
fans                                      & walks with me, he with his curly
                                             yellow Afro ringlet hair
                                             gold —no — spangly
I, the                                     spare, oiled hips
one fan                                  palm of a giant hand
                                             he lets go
gangle                                   I return to her
                                                                  this is how
                                             we meet, don’t know

No comments:

Post a Comment