Cutting the Grass
(a surreal poem about The British Empire )
a pair of well worn elephant skin curtains were drawn
exposing an English country garden
a small and European sun
cuts a swirling beam of derma
a fireplace crafted from the yellowing skulls
of native Tasmanians
frames the green and purple flames
of a roasting heart
over in one corner
a bloodhound drools
in another
a majestic flamingo
glass encased in spastic stance
over by the bookcase
ten thousand Russian peasants wept
whilst on a tiger rug
the Englishman he slept
No comments:
Post a Comment