clay

You seem to come
with disappointment
built in,
a seventies Yorkshire Stone fireplace
hugging the wall
of a dream house,
and grinning through
bared and yellow teeth.

You are kaolin;
feet and shins of terracotta,
ceramic thighs
and a phallus
of vitreous china.

You are Armitage Shanks.

And there has been
a scattering of grey dawns,
when I have cried
a few real tears
over this.

© James Nash [Coma Songs 2003, 2006]