Fog

descends on LA :
a drunk passing to sleep.

glides between buildings :
Garbo through Ciro’s.

obscures the night :
left cross to the eyes.

Noise of Production

I.

“Kitten,
You purr right proper,

So lemme hang a proposition
From your ear :

Let’s me and you
Climb upstairs for a tipple.

And after a sip I’ll
Show you where my

Pyjamas
Need mending.”


II.

Iron bars twist like string
Into a headboard; bathwater,

Matte as newsprint,
Screws slowly down the drain.

Grainy newsreel stock,
Soundtrack cracks open

With gunfire. His hand
Grips your thin thigh

Like slow wood
Round a wire tump.


III.

[Slow fade
Like grime spreading grey

Across a window pane.
Music falls.]


IV.

“Baby,
Don’t you know?

You got to wet the string
To thread the needle.”