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Iain Britton

Plaster of Paris


From the 4 corners

of this tower
lumped
             on a map                 made of plaster of Paris

I fill pockets with tricks.

The best magician wins the day
thinks he’s invisible when he’s not.

White rabbits hide in cupboards in boxes
(in hats?)

A peaceful contradiction exists
but I practise hard.

I conjure up my own sod of origin

plan a park for trees, a plantation for immaculate thoughts
flower beds which will eat fragrances all year round.

From this monolithic inheritance
avenues spoke outwards

                        to capture returning prodigals

ancestral dropouts, the multiple births of children
the sun’s last sentence on any day.


I draw rings around the spots where you have been.

I tap your sex

                     to let me in.

Grandeur’s deception is at play.

Cards are dealt           and predictably
you choose the Queen of Hearts

because she reads like you.

Iain Britton

Iain Britton

Iain Britton’s third poetry collection was published in 2010 by Oystercatcher Press (UK).

 
 
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