Fiorelli verses ConverseOur fingernails were always packed With dirt that summer: Thick black lines Through chipped fluorescent paint Taken from our mothers’ vanity cases, Poorly applied to our skin.Fiorelli verses Converse
Your lurid eye shadow through pinkish Shades of the cling-film circle From your lips. My stubbornly Vibrant green plimsolls dulled By the cleavage of your big and second Toe - peeping through supple Italian leather.
We stood beneath the sepia sky, Cracking with current. Our cotton t-shirts patterned with sweat Matching the sticky stains On the denim, which lay &
BettyHer retro curtain clothing captures My gaze - like an unwilling Participant in a hypnotist show. White merges with red: Dustlike pink spots disappear.Betty
I fix my stare on the door handle - Eyeing my exit. Pupils flicker Around the blistering frame: Bursts reveal the exposed Pine beneath.
As my voice rises, her head turns: I’ve been trying to catch her eye. Trying to grab hold of her wrist - That soft spot between her watch and cuff, Where I let my thumb wander.
He’s screeching like a child - Throwing wild accusations, Spitt
Smoking in Mezzaine OnlyHer voice is the only thing That distinguishes her: this raspy Dry-mouthed echo, heavy with accent And saccharin vowels. It mutters empty Pleasantries, as she hands me My theatre ticket.Smoking in Mezzaine Only
Polystyrene compliments Escape from gaps in the metal slits: Jagged and sharp as incisors. Her words Slice through them, while I maintain Eye contact with the vent: averting Her face.
It hovers there: A static Magritte apple. The blemish remains fleetingly: Her identity revealed before Being replaced by another Faceless face.
cheers
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