You smell as sweet as the unlaundered clothes in a Charity Shop
without even a deodorant to your name,
My yearning heart dotes on your lilting voice
and leaps like a seasick kitten at the whisper of your Latin name,
Antonia.
The evening descends softly over that great Wren Cathedral in the City.
I am calmed by your body chemistry;
I carry your odour into the twilight
I see the moon beams and I hold your gloves next to my table napkin at dinner
so I can steal some food for tomorrow and leave no fingerprints.
I am filled with such tremulous joi de vivre
May I dry your tears of ink and buy you a biro ball point and some artificial tears?
As my left ear falls onto your breast,
it reminds me of your three dimensionality and your solid geometry.
And your perfect symmetry.
I have waited too long saving up for a diamond.
In the hushed noontide, I wait for the last drones of the USA to pass over
or may be it’s just a herd of wasps.
My heated hands leap to put on your sweet blue shawl
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your sentimental piece of verse,
so that we may drive as one,leg to leg
We discourse spitefully on the spiritual nature of true love.
I have more than once tried to roll your stone away
but your tomb is impenetrable without angelic help.
Oh,Jesus, another nightmare.I am glad to meet you..
I could hardly wait..
And this is my girlfriend,Antonia.
My sweet Lord,
Really want to know you,but it takes so long,I know.
I’m in Heaven..
Here’s Nye Bevan..
And Lord Beveridge..

