Wednesday, 11 June 2014

CONDIMENT WOMEN



you glimpse a moment
or it stares at you
becomes 
a
THING
so you scribble it down in a secret book
pleased
you saw it
pleased 
you noticed you noticed its standard horror
and
you
wrap it up fresh and quick and keep it on ice
in 
a 
freezer bag

and
its
nurses again - theatre staff really
in anonymous blues and paper caps
eyes 
are pools 
are angels 
are nuns - sun in black rainstorms
shining
from
the
over-washed uniformity

and
when
changed 
and
clutching car keys clocking out
they 
look
somehow
just 
like 
condiments
in a hungover breakfast nook




from jeremyriad.com

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