Carol Ann Duffy
I put two yellow peepers in an owl. Wow. I fix the grin of Crocodile. Spiv. I sew the slither of an eel. I jerk, kick-start, the back hooves of a mule. Wild. I
This is the word tightrope. Now imagine A man, inching across it in the space Between our thoughts. He holds our breath. There is no word net. You want him to fall, don’t you?
Not a red rose or a satin heart. I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light Like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind
Somewhere on the other side of this wide night And the distance between us, I am thinking of you. The room is turning slowly away from the moon. This is pleasurable. Or shall I