By Jack Pedder
A hungry woman in an unhungry
building in an unbuildingly outdoors
takes off her pants and eats her boyfriend’s pants.
Her boyfriend eats her eating of his pants,
and her pants, and they go to a country
where the only people are foreigners,
and the only foreigners are Frenchmen.
‘My breakfast makes no sense.’ complains a boy
to his father, while two kneeling women
hold a note, and build, and brake the note
on the side of a wok. A brown stoat dies.
‘Well.’ replies the father, ‘Neither does mine.’
Mark wills, against Mark’s will, Mark to matter.
Mark is a boy with a penchant for men
with a penchant for men like Mark. Jenny
is a woman. The most important thing
to know about Sarah is that she is
a woman. Many women are also
women. Michael wants to be a woman
who wants to be a man called Michael. He
says it will save him a lot of trouble.
I make then reverse forty decisions –
then make them again. A mind cannot tear
paper, as no Malaysian proverb says.
Sarah is prone to an existential twinge
in her twinge-ports during times of extreme,
or indeed moderate, extremity.
The most harrowing idea Michael
can think about right now is becoming
a post-box. Being one would be okay.
It would be the becoming that harrows,
like the blade shaves and the dentist drill knocks.
The snowy rip in a warm bone outmodes
the sandy rip in a wet bone, or the
warm bone in warm snow. The worst thing Mark can
imagine Sarah doing hurts Mark’s thighs.
Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes.