Saturday, 15 February 2014


Why must I not
ask about
diamonds and rats,
castles and hats?

No Jack of diamonds
Is going to believe that
You’ve stolen the parrots,
and suddenly got mad.

I’ve seen all the feathers
dropped in the sand.
You’ve tickled the bearers,
Then grubbed the land.

Spades, hearts and decks.
The jumble of feelings
Goes out of hand
And all out of meaning.

Imagine the dices,
The poor Queen of hearts.
Then tell me your vices
And their form of art.

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