Never repressible;
even now, your cocked finger
poised on your laughing jaw
is a rebellion.
You do not eat what we eat, no;
instead you lay out a feast
and preside like Nefertiti.
Overturning all the precedents
to treat us with a cracking laugh
and a clamping wit
that no-one wriggles free from.
You eat life with both eyes open.
You make Greer look like a girl guide,
with bad hair.
Look over your shoulder for the hustle of words.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
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