by Margery Hannah
I want to be the red dot beaming
on canvas bleached
The Son I am to ears
bright of faces without teeth
The Tupac of despair, the Pryor
of fears laughing
at tears dried by Martin’s dream
I want to be a cold kiwi in a
Summer desert
Falling from fig trees
Lazily, I want to be these
With the twist of a wrist I want to please
corrupt every learnt thing
Turn it into me
A denied beauty queen
flaming the world free
©Margery Hannah 2006-2021