Raving Mother

Raving Mother

It's the last hour before the end of the night
And out of all the things I could find myself carrying
Is a sandwich bag with a used tampon
The blades of straw invite like matches
Someone over there is breaking up
I really need the loo
I hold your hand to steady myself
You're cheerful because you are eight
but it occurs to me that
Festivals are like manufactured apocalypses