The Ultimate Sales Machine

The clue that doesn’t break the skin

(not for want of hammering)- I call you

‘faker’ and, cursing indiscriminately,

 

drop you a line –

 

crossing my stitches as the seams

come under strain, pulling open

a hatch in the shady ground.

 

Time warps      Danger looms –

a beggar, innocuously clad

in stinking dressing-gown

 

and wine-stained pantaloons,

armed with disarming unabashedness

and dizzying connections –

 

here’s a puzzle to sleep on;

the discovery of each piece

makes me improbably glad,

 

while Silence, holding up

her end of the frame, unknits

the tapestry with equal speed.

 

It’s no-one’s funeral and there are no

boisterous mouths to feed and no,

it’s not a riddle or a race,

 

but if you’re aiming for my middle

you’d better be handy with a bow

and murderously brisk with the pace.

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