The Poisoner’s Poison
Sleep has led me one step to the left
of lead.
A periodic transition to thallium:
softer certainly,
like freezer bread thawing.
But there’s still no stretch inside this
grey,
tasteless,
odourless shape.
Though they say sometimes
we live in secrets –
that maybe under the double duvet,
your legs glow with a blueish light
that flashes urgency
before settling for eternity
into a freezer’s empty memory:
its power cord cut.
Whatever.
Tomorrow I’ll wake to quicksilver thoughts.
Tomorrow I’ll wake up.