A thousand buts

I’m not available 

Too busy dying 

They don’t need me

My children beloved 

My lover my life

I’m not an absolute 

Conjecture made mist 

Caught on the parchment 

All yellow and dog eared 

Like some shopping list 

More than a sonnet 

Less than a sperm

Try telling millions of me’s

How we are despised 

Ants nests have their workers 

They are bathed in perfume 

Whilst we bleed to death 

Cost of a thousand buts

On the cusp of happy shopping 

Elsewhere is your gesture 

Colder than a poltroon burrow 

Laced with silver 

Like my hat 

I’m not available 

Too busy lying 

In this hammock west of Watford 

I’m not available 

Purpose my shadow 

Her thread was invisible 

Laid by a beetle 

Blue as debauch

Spider be soluble 

Aspirin quink. 

4/11/19