Thursday, March 31, 2005


your eyebrows are intruding
they curl like teabag mould
septic algae in my room
waggling like the bottoms
of damsels from the black and white movies

i wish you would comb them
or try a trim.

your eyebrows like to talk
about things that are nimble
they make allusions to minds
and mean something else

your eyebrows want to rub me
this will not happen
sometimes i think that i would rather wallow in
the mud and faeces
of farmer's stalls
and chat to the pigs
about straw-
and the weather,
than let your eyebrows relax on my stomach
stretch their fuzzy legs across my skin
and conjure images
of greasy nuns
and fingered accordians
or furrier pianos

i cannot look your eyebrows in the eye.
when i do, they twitch
they think salaciously of lewd comments
which they hide, like schoolbooks over crotches
and giggle
at me.


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