The Woman I'll Be
puts her hair up with a comb
of absolute zero, fastens
it with a pack of hounds
until it forms a straight peak,
utters words like a species
of pepper, and has a blemish
on her tongue, is certain
she is not asleep, her love
is like soap, and that this is not
a dream, works as head of the
fire-brigade, knows the correct use
of liberty and that a bestseller is
just words, is never disappointed
and poisonous til treated, can
M.T.C. Cronin