Enough

Enough would offer a side of well lit lemon rind said sharply as if

the underlying grid dissolved for more than an inch or two it was

there we lay to fold when not was the better perhaps hindseeing

Was irritating the others who trailed the meat across their lips for

hours did not matter wore on until malpractice came to define

our present shamed hair emotions so many were saying don’t go

Back but we had not had the distance we required from our sent

force such as the feet we saw was it the museum we required to

sate or should walk on feet carved out of flesh and grey chine

As we lay rotting in our beds questions never haunted us at all

smells of petrol smells of egg or delicately perfumed horse flesh

were grist to the indifferent lace made year by year to drape over

The small buildings we were enticed to own where each of us kept

a dog a masterpiece a shell hole and an unbroken bottle of milk

handed down as wanted allowed from the shelves installed behind

Scenery where the bare bones played where the Inca built their

stepping stone machines installed and recognised faces moved cut

down ate and excreted excelled and smeared shaded our eyes

With enough pixel dripping to keep off the flexing sun