i. god laughs on as his mulberry shoes skylark down george street misunderstanding shreds the air like a flaming galah, the skate boarders flash by in mercurial currents loud as the rocks of thrace ii. he sang to her from the bank of screens in the store window like a blue shadow but there were so many of him she couldn't work out which one was real her eyes swam with the dazzle of eurovision, too late to enrol in the refresher course in ancient greek iii. where can this walk round the shore of traffic lights take us your silky dreams collapse like the virtues of tofu the oysters may be smoked inside the tin of their coffins covered in cardboard but aw shucks you still recall how to row a new torch hangs on its hook this isn't weekend poetry; the tide is edging in
joanne burns: no disguises
1 October 2008
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