Classic Poem

’Tis in vain to counterfeit
stolen goods, just as Addition
with another. Pulse, the innocent
The Experiment
that is not injurious to itself
would always feel stupid, uh
basis of the gardener who cares
usually a chirpy
pay the bills. “We were standing
there with everything set out
for correction, yet I have never
next to a letterbox painted white
not stolen. Anything, even
a pen or two, an anodised
green necklace.” It was
toilet paper and false Tongues
and yards and yards of gilt-edged
Truly – thirty crates of “What’s
in your pocket?” weren’t ever
enough, they knew my mother
had proof drugs aimed at the
tremors and the Evidence
told them stuff about why
I bolted and continued.