Duplicity

I am the angel on the ceiling

witnessing myself brought down

to the possessable, the animal leaving

its decoy trail

on the pad on a Motel nightstand.

Comforts calculated to last

for only one night

begin to sour

the sweetness left on lovers’ lips

from apres dinner muscadet.

How inconvenient this sense of obligation,

a stranger’s touch igniting

an urgent desire

to pick up the phone, call you,

hear your voice, tell you I’m fine.

(c) 2013 Slush Poet

'Duplicity' was first published in Orbis #164

Butt

A billion is a ponderous number

a solitary one

followed by ten—yes, ten!—

zeros, each an abyss of despair.

You need four commas just to write it down!

Four waystations to pause and wonder.

And not one in ten billion ever saw

a century and a quarter.

And you thought you could live for ever!

Ponder that butt in the gutter.

Its fate is your fate is my fate is our fate is their fate.

It’s not just in stars you find singularities.

© 2013 Slush Poet