Afternoon tea

You suck my air out through the smallest aperture

You leave me breathless

I pull the heavy double-blade sword razor-edged

From my scabbard, lunging at dreams

Viking-like and ready for the dissection

I watch the afternoon tea and fall asleep

Rocking like a baby new-born

You leave me writhing on the warmed white sand

You leave me gasping

I pull the poet’s pen dripping with my blood

From a secret lair, rushing at schemes

Donne-like and ready for death

I watch the music float and hear the smell

Rocking like a baby new-born