Books Back

Kim O'Leary

Why thank you for this reddish-brown hairy stocking

Such a benign token of our friendship. You must trust that I will wear it, you know how cold my little toes can get!

When thoughts of you come mustering in the mould

I swagger alongside the oath of denial. Turn on the lamp and read beside me And churn and churn until I think of something else.

Poor things are better than you

Ah yes I recall now your stupidness and buffoonery. Cyclamens are cheap and grow in staggering, neighbouring, fourishing gardens

I’m saying that you are unoriginal.