breaking up, again

you’re not
the sea
a siren
or a shell
you’re a fist
in my mouth
the flint
of metal
silting
my brackish
lungs
you’re not
sentimental
you’re paid for
and gratify me
in the morning
as I let you slip
in me with a cup
of tea and again
in the night
when I twist you
like a fatal thought
on my back
doorstep, too coy
to be fondled
for too long, you
multiply badly
in my ashtray, but
you’re smarter
than you let on –
I’ve seen
your tongue
in other poets
& roadworkers
clapping
themselves
your enlightened
smog, I’m a hog
for you, I’d snort
you if I could...
but let’s be honest,
we’re not right
for each other,
I’m unsatisfied
every time
you’re near
gone...I guess
that’s it
just one last bang?
and then lady
nicotine, I’m done


Cecily has pubished with Voiceworks,
Dotlit, Australian Reader and Vibewire's
annual Interface mag