Wild Nights

She has also been a presenter for BBC radio.

Go back home, follow the high notes down.
Joe will take you all the way underground.

The kind where a train
looks like a trip to Paris, & Paris
is a woman wearing nothing but jewels,
& you have to know her but never will.

That’s the kind of blues he plays.
The kind where a muddy cloud
looks like a train.

It swallowed a freezer once.
You were right to go. But come back.
Cried the rose. Coughing up
a few thawing pork chops.

I’m sorry love isn’t a flower.
I’m sorry my heart is a sinkhole.

Love is a bluebird from hell.
Love is a teacup Chihuahua.

You were the river that drowned me most.
You were

Wine: kisses: snake: end
of their story.

Nothing is so beautiful as death,
thinks Death