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The Engagement Ring or

Make-up on a Train



I find I disintegrate

watching her ring and its multitude of tiny rainbows,

shards of rain, they persecute me, and I am

Brimming anger over aching back.


Vertebrae have become stiff and are now shouting through me

Saying fuck your stupid diamonds, they’re hurting my eyes;

and your neon trainers gym ready journey home

is deflating any energy I might have left.


I feel like if you caught me over your shoulder

You’d mutter, fucking mental bitch.

My gaze bounces off you back from you and bitches both us.

You – blow dried straight hair and, I imagine waxed clean pussy.


I mean there’s no denying I’d love shove my face in it.

But I’m tired of people being surprised at my untrained pubic hair.


It’s not you, it’s the light from your ring that catches me,

And again I am refracted

ricocheted back and around on these railway judders

standing in your diamond light rainbows.


My back is clumped powder, like oil in water,

And I think:

Your reflections are more than pocket mirror irritations,

So fuck them if they move seats while I plaster your face onto mine.

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