Trust bats; they mimic parents.
She appeared in words
Putting labels on local ideas
while circus babies suffer.
When heated, dogs ricochet
to 2010; they smell oestrogen.
They live; Family suffered,
Breathe milk, smell children. Binge.
Britain’s landslide. She arrived,
excessively, collapsing in childbirth.
On record a female can breathe.
Wednesday; London’s reeling.
Clear plastic, afternoon stars,
Baby juice, alcohol in a bottle.
Bats glimpse empty couples
Postscript: the media won.
Book review: Where The Axe is Buried by Ray Nayler
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*Book links*: Amazon, Goodreads
*ABOUT THE AUTHOR: *Ray Nayler is the author of the Locus Award winning
novel The Mountain in the Sea. For nearly half...
16 hours ago
I like the juxtaposition of images, looks like a kind of cut-up style. Neat poem.
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