‘We are selling the rafters!’
This boar of an idea
Flash of anger but dry of spittle
Restless nights that give way
To cracked iced days.
‘We’ll have none of it!’ she said
Crimson mouthed and tawdry
Scarred elbows on her knees,
‘Or we’ll steal it all!’
And I dreamt and I wept
And found myself sticky in her gaze
The way the spider looks at a fly.