Tom Thumbelina
Wind whispering his
consciousness
primps plump pages in skinny kiss
pinpricks the warm peel
raising hair
delicious lite crisp bite
of appley air
he grins those lessons
wrote there.
Delight at each
falling silken thread
speaks in books that
should be read
lighting so slight draws
tissue webs
with thoughts cocooned
within two
she melt ice cream in swoony June.
Texts must sing of ha'sixpence
songs
from a manuscript
pages girl belong
old soft Motown grooves
panting cry
suckling at my soul
see where it flies
pull open petal rose and both will die.
Sticky a stickleback
trickles drips like
Tom pushy Thumbelina
in drippy dyke
shoves a thicken plastic
in leaky holes
pouring on rubbery putty
into moulds
finger driven cracks
with sealing wax
crumbles for the want of
what it lacks
when many will mumble acquired
taste
commemorate such a muttered waste.
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