Yesterday’s Favourite

 

Yesterday’s Favourite

 

There are bureaucrats and plunging necklines,

you know which you prefer -

and her eyes glittered with half mocked up steel,

viz - well it all depends on how you feel

and some are well past their sell-by date.

It flickers across your mind,

death by a thousand paper cuts and all that

and you wonder why she did not say use by.

Maybe she sees your woman, sawin’ on a fiddle,

playin’ it hot – and raising flames of sin

with her violin, violin, violin –

all yours, Babooshka, Babooshka, ya-ya -

like how her subtonic, snaps to, resolves tension

and release – oh, her buttons be thieves of vision

she looses just one or two -

you’re never caught looking but looking, she’s shaking

think of all the music we’re making

oh, and how we’d like to make even more.

Still, a phone call begets a tap on the door –

something about revelations, elbows, short sleeves,

those boxes need to be ticked you know

so, consider this a ticking off, ears made of cloth -

sweet sweaty brows onto pillow cleavage drips

like sails billow over prows of departing ships.