Incoherence (Gemma White)
Tonight, I’m having
you over for dinner.
I’ll be licking the storms
from your mind like
(You can thank me
later). I’ll be exactly where
I always am, dripping off the top
of your dirty counter. Sniffing up its stains,
The Human Vacuum Cleaner. This one tastes
of coffee, of cocaine, of love, of incoherence. This one moves
like velvet. Becomes murky like oil paint, doesn’t come when called.
Annoys me constantly,
this one. (I think
I love it).