The wink and the gun.
For the cunts.
Feeling
like Carlton, with the wink and the gun;
blank words spurred, spun for fun and jest,
like schoolgirls with makeup-mirror rumours.
If I had a penny, I wouldn’t need to work again—
arm-length lists of bloody this and bloody that,
weightless, shapeless as sidewinders, being circled,
spineless as man o’ wars, beached, and sun-bleached.