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Sonnet 4


You never spend a pound when you can spend a penny,

how I once saw you, new beauty, lost now, is a legacy fading.

It’s because of all the jars of coins you gave me, I took, I was selfish

and anyway I used to think you were free, I mean never not free.

You can hold my arsecheek if I can hold your arsecheek,

That’s so romantic, that’s such a gift to give.

Usurper, that’s what I call you when you steal my kinks

and nothing costs as much as the errors I’ve marked us with.

It’ll be cold tomorrow, icy and uncertain and the cars will skid,

you’ll be alone but don’t be deceived, I’ll be here where we were..

It’s not a constant calling I’m talking about, it’s a distant whisper,

barely audible, you should do a stock take of my longing.

Every time I don’t touch you I’m buried deep, I’m dead.

Every time you turn away you’re my executor, you’re sleeping.


About michaeleganpoetry

Liverpool based poet and editor. I have had four pamphlets of poetry published, most recently After Stikklestad (Knives, Forks and Spoons Press, 2010). Penned in the Margins published my first collection, Steak & Stations, in 2010.

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