The Diplomatic Post

Sleep-ins foil good intentions As the sun gives rise and servitude to Christmas Day I flick the kettle on and spy The sacrificial honeyed ham In an overloaded fridge That strains to cool the Offerings that hours later Will fill a lace tablecloth And the good plates And the Tupperware And landfill And… My spiral…

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Christmas Cacophony

How many memories begin with Cicadas, Or dancing Santa’s deflating to bend double, Kissing dirt whilst reindeers staunchly idle, And lawn mowers hit gum nuts that crackle, And the grass smells fresh and sweet. A Christmas cacophony good enough to eat.

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First crack at broken

Delivered hard, In short words, And long pauses. To my surprise She’s caught me: Full headlights Frayed rope Doe eyes and Misplaced passion. A photogenic instant, Outside of any comfort: My abandoned hope A heated cattle prong A silent fear, this swan song. That I think will end me. I want to hear ‘I love…

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Whether

Like mildew on leather I was musty with trust That antecedent Precursive verse – Of the unknown: We laughed, I was laughing Weathering busty stances A rocking horse A silhouette The shadows danced As shadows do Must settling Trust too Like angel dust On every surface.

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Unsated

A construct of exchange is in my pocket They say it burns a hole and so it seems It scorches the landscape of my fingers And as I deftly touch count the amount Of loose change I have for an ‘avo’ on toast’ I come across a scene you couldn’t dream of. And I realise…

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