When you consider the flea,

inbeing I mean,

hopping through whole

possibilities of cinema:

the assorted drag act

and bodies – old crossdressing  injuries

in and out of roles

where we fit

crape hair, crap heir

to breakfast rolls, tin cans,

being Queen, being Titian,

tic-ridden,

so we will say

afterall

whether in coronets,

or to someone in chains,

My father, my son.