Car ki der
You look like an eskimo
with that upturned nose
that clutch of black hair -
the smirk of a birth mark
the size of a tooth
on the mitre of your shoulder,
you can tell you sleep in no ordinary bed
but lay like a file unsorted
where you fall,
when you dance
men and women watch
your wrists turning like cogs
each hip a loose stalk,
my hands hurtle like precussion
each lip bruised from stripping
off skin
like a kumquat.
