Ivor
Daniel

               A young girl

               torments

               a pelican.

               A monkey

               proffers

               a poisoned dove.

               Some of us wear masks.

               I search for symbolism

               under the bed.

               You said that once

               you were afraid of everything.

               I don’t see that.

               Catholicism,

               dictatorship,

               finishing school,

               life.

               These everyday interiors

               where hands are tied,

               sanitised.

               A bare arm in a jackboot.

               A handbag yawns –

               so red

               inside.

               We gaze with fascinated cruelty.

               Is that a pregnant man?

               I know that you would

               order the world differently,

               if you could.

               For now,

               your paints and pastels

               interrogate

               what is wrong

               with us all.