Exhile [sic]
Dress circle of the private abyss
Insufferable summer of alienation
Like the drought persists
It was in this place
I came to know the taste of bore water
The moist eyes of cattle
Being driven to slaughter
Betrayed by a pastoral Judas
In a pussy pink dress shirt
Full of alluvial concerns
And plaints about weather cursed
He’s riddled with tmesis
Every sentence could have a parenthesis
He's forgotten the smell of rain
Like we might forget a love
Gilt china cup in a cabinet
Watches his wife play piano
She smells like sheet music
Cutting the dying lawn of her rural chateau
Ambergris pomade and musk
Butter sandwiches a faded almanac
An altar to touch
When the sunsets in the evening
All the broken things begin to rust
A Myxomatosised hare hops over
Shards of perfume bottles bust
That wink in the moonlight
There's silence around here
After a while it gets into everything.