Caitlin

Will he clip me now, make me drink more drink, watch my face go brown, sit and wonder why, his face a beaten rink, see me dance the tide, all this Summer long, we skated on the brink, heat drips off my brow, what he might try, as he gathers and slinks, slippery as a ship's side, savours a line thrown down, a petty display that stinks, disputes all that I own, constrained i sit close by, know what he's thinking, his eyes are eggs fried I don't need a shrink.