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It won’t just be the poet’s slap

 

It won’t just be the poet’s slap

 

Stand over man against the Morris & Co wallpaper of green weaving leaves with white & orange & burgundy

I ain’t your bitch said Edgar Degas’ model in her cold bath just one more section I haven’t got your hair right

Keep walkin mate big on your video game profile

The sea through the winter’s window began to swell as the rain was whipped by the wind

Close up on the conversation like a lash on a moustache

This is life buddy good manners cost nothing & open up so much free space in this crazy congested world cough cough a hot toddy methinks

Some say to the poet he’s only young as the cello gave way to the first violin which sings people remain what they are formed of the child becomes the man Tchaikovsky scrawled in the margins of his score once a prick always a prick one day you’ll meet your fate you’re going the wrong way & it won’t just be the poet’s slap

 

 

Published & Copyright Malachi Doyle 2025.

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