Could anyone let me know why this particular poem is getting a huge amount of views this week? Please comment and let me know why! I am pleased, but puzzled…
To pick your fruit from chimney stacks
Is a quiet, steaming trigger.
The trees are slimming at the waist,
Applying whorish rouges
To their splitting seed pouches.
We stepped on mossy linoleums
To creep, hard-toed onto grass.
The garden is heaving with
Rinds and hammers,
Lubricant and whale-bone.
You scratched your favourite words
In ashes on the pavement.
Like your red-haired friend
Who knew a boy who died, once.
Loss on a martini glass.
The soot-flooded twig still lies there,
A testament to your good times.
I remember you flailing, bound
In hankerchiefs and father’s rule,
Stuck in hilltop houses.
And so, I sat down for breakfast,
Waited for you to descend
With arms piled high with chimney stacks
(Stolen from the more deserving)
On which to chip my teeth.