It directly
says stuff which
has been layered in art
like, let’s say,
a footballer
being natural
while kicking goals.

No wonder at all
that we’re
seen in the trade malls
and slippery markets
as quite unpopular,
lexicographical
and even queer.

Oh dear, yes,
a poet you’ll say,
the Romans were
good at that,
you believe. Also
King David,
I might be inclined
to reply.

But then
he or she might
murmur Sappho,
like some dork
who imagines
she’ll have scored,
smirking into
her Bundy and coke.

The dark wisdom
of a new stanza
could well tell us all
that falling asleep
with your glasses on
you’re in danger
of biting your tongue

or else that
an oxymoron
definitely has to be
the first act of
a play you haven’t read.

When we grow up
we bolt the door
on a horseless stable
and the true poem
tells me so: like
a dream with strong verbs.