Monday, 30 October 2017



open the wardrobe
see the bodies hung inside,
who shall I be today?
sometimes a rational decision
other times a capricious whim,
I need an upgrade of new flesh,
a delicious adornment, as a gown
to hold against myself in the mirror,
yes, I enjoy having a vagina
but sometimes I prefer a penis,
today I’m young, tomorrow perhaps
I’ll choose the wisdom of great age,
slip on the garment of colour-coded bodies
ebon or Byzantine gold, switching scenarios
one by one, tentacle-fingers, starfish eyes,
embroidered as a bishop, lizard scales,
webbed feet, ocelot fur, my eyes are flame,
my cheeks maps of unknown planets,
Asiatic tattoos or albino Hispanic
a Nordic dancer, a bantu nymph
I forsake fixed form to match my mood,
shrug off bodies to squeeze into new ones
some are winged, others silver filigree,
limbs protrude in careless afterthought
smile for an hour, frown a month away
blood circulates as rush of dark waters
as surely as ocean tides,
flip through bodies
how to decide,
who shall I be today…?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ive still not decided Andrew. And its leaving behind one hell of a mess on. The bedroom floor. Mark xxx