Fleck
As the fat summer flies buzz,
feast on your cleaved torso
shall we walk together
towards past indignities
started ordinarily enough
as most others, in polite
banter. Your skin
shimmering like an unspoilt
apple, as you duck
your head into the van.
Somehow impulse lets loose,
the scaffold of reason
collapsing, the windmill of
desire suddenly severing the
veneer, blindly thrashing,
gaping, wildly open.