Wednesday, 29 June 2011


Blend it all into circular nothing, grey
paste to plaster cracks and coat a stone face.
Build up the tower block with a patch of green
solitude, wrung up in its core,
like the pulp left to dry out from a deftly peeled
orange, clinical cuts, jutted out jaws,
and not easily satisfied paws, tearing
at the pours of poor malleable little street toughs.

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