Riots in another Eden, Eve’s tearful funeral,

Her truth was a lie and was all about Eve

Caged across anonymous affairs

Over poetic contexts in fragmented narratives

Through expectant open-mouthed pockets where paradise

Would never be the same again

 

Eve has escaped the serpent

But not its bite, she chases the dragon now

The blackened souls will always rule,

But not in the back yards of Accrington town

 

A face, ghostly face,

No body.

 

Somebody

My little girl and me

Life of us left.

 

Love blushes. Spiders swim in web.

 

Silent discos, joyriders, funereal laughter, virgin queens:

Negatives become positives; positives become negatives.

In cashew fields, with dormant grace

She sweeps up confetti amongst rusty chairs.