Irena

Does your selfish mock, frighten sheets you sleep by, whey faced as their cotton, ones my Nana use to pummel, then hang out to dry, laughing at our songs, wine to sip at crowded docks, cigarettes and flies, men who kiss and shock, manifestos they unroll, across a crowded sky, anything to keep control, streets full of dramatic knocks, are you happy to lie, to see me switched off, near river tides and tunnels, by hurling lilac twilight, water running like in blossom, your face an icon.