My liver hurt like falling off a mountain
and I made things up to feel alright.
Somebody at a party once told me painful things come in threes.
I bought new trousers if only to remind me of the length of my legs
Proudness suits me with a tie-string waistband
I love the parade all the more for its irregularity.
Teach me how to sing so I might burp
just as you expect me to reach the high note
I’d be so good if I could apply myself —
open the window for the owl and let her show me how.
After that late night you’ll be glad of the extra misery
like a crumb of sleep that scratches the soft bit under your eye
or the time your uncle slit his own throat in Shropshire.