Statuesque Naivety

Cynic please live like the living do, you are

breathing like a chimney, statuesque

with cystic fibrosis, like that guy

who tortured my friend

and then himself drowned in a clotted cream basin

doomed soon dead, your torso is grey

a pond water ration.

Not all statues are silent, so sing

like that omniscient Wood Pigeon up there, report

every never existed memory, and sketch

her vertical that’s-enough-now nose.

Before you consider blinking, photograph

her leave me alone smile, use everything

to illustrate her paralyzed prose


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