The Lodger

By | 1 July 1999

outgrown the body simply
drags what it can’t carry

mouth slack as a stroke
but eyes the colour of bees

we are at the centre
of all that flowers in the lodger

and when he shows himself
we must take his useless hand

kiss him on the mouth
until he weeps like a woman

and admits he can’t pay his way
causing trouble where ever he stays

but if we let him he’ll learn
how to love us for his keep
all he asks is time
to prepare us for his death

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