Malcolm Peltu



a summer's day forecast

at mid-day on a summer's day
we coughed and groped our way
across the city's parklands

the birds were sporting new gas masks
and policemen were smog bathing in deckchairs;
blind men were guiding sightseers
and exhibitionists were stripping in vain
while lovers and haters and junkies
accountants and butterflies and whores
mothers and babies and governments
were breathing in death through their pores.




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