“I Survived a Flesh-Eating Bacteria”

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An itchy patch on his elbow

he figured for a bite, bloomed

into a swelling, his skin

grew rigid as a big top red

and white.

 

With the fever came,

dreams of clowns.

He keeled over

delirious at lunch,

a teacup handle

by his jagging foot.

 

Meet flesh-eating

streptococcus,

puncture wound.

So nice to meet you.

Would you like to stay?

 

Indeed, I would

for I have need

to spread as balloons

rise on a clear sky,

cords waving hello.

 

Where the line

of the Sharpie lay,

the surgeon cut

bulging skin oozing,

like the showman.

 

Parting is such sweet sorrow,

cries wound, it’s tears spilling

as Strep is squeezed from it.

Unaware, their host provides

no snacks. He is passed out.

 

On medication, the love is gone

like memories of the caravans,

the elephants and men who

whip the lion gorging on bodies

of fallen spectators. Amen.

“I Survived a Flesh-Eating Bacteria”

Como Dios manda

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No-one moves for the ambulance
trapped in traffic.

Cars make pedestrian crossings
at light speed on Amber.

Parents make their children squat to pee
or else they loft them high to aim.

The world walks in the middle of the road,
with pushchairs and trolleys, pitbulls and motos.

Dogs bark at each other in fear, and
the owners smile opaquely.

Rubbish in the gutter
shows where cars once were.

Rubbish on the pavement
shows where people walked.

If you they ask, they shrug.
If you shout, they shrug.

If you walk away, they shrug
but you can’t see them shrugging.

Best to shrug with them, I guess
as there is nothing else you can do.

Best leave them all to it.
Best leave them all alone,

como Dios manda.

Como Dios manda

The old lose it.

Landscape

That wish to please
is stripped
to show

the knots
and lines
beneath.

The seamy
mothballs
in their beating hearts

revolve like crumbs
inside
their open maw,

in supermarkets
intestine rebelling,
and everything drooping

like swans off-course,
but 9 miles
underground.

The old lose it.