a murder of them

the janitor at the library wanted to be a baby

naked and suckling on a breast

– but he just swept floors and emptied bins

– he looked at people in clothes and imagined them naked the larger the person

the greater shadow

fingerprints are like maths

you can’t argue with the facts

retina scanned at the door

they wouldn’t let me in

my eyes weren’t on file

where’s your favourite poem now?

in the fields at the edge of tow

all the scarecrows had their clothes stolen

they were reduced to straw

( I saw a man wearing the scarecrows trousers

held up with an electric cable

the iron was still attached)

and when the wind blew the scarecrows disappeared


the crows returned

a whole murder of them


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