\ Mick the Cunt’s Canto
\
/ Exercisers /
I’m the one in the dewy meadow your car passes in the pink
dawn
in the trees, the bramble, watching the walkers and the
running ones
why do they run and what do they hope to escape
they are wax effigies of self, moulded into the garments of
exercise
I will apprehend you on the cycleways
where the lights fail and the CCTV can’t reach
and peel those garments from you like the skin of a fruit
your mouth I’ll fill with the same earth that I will sculpt
over your eyes like plaster
render you an horrific replicant, mute and sightless
your thighs mottled red in immense blotches
ink stains from the cold breeze, the chill
devolved to dirt that would dry and crack
I’ll admire your fine form from afar
would not try to touch or otherwise caress you
for it is not my place to do so
my place is but to render you an horrific replicant of earth
until that earth has drawn the breath that had been yours
but belonged now to all.
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