Larkin’
They’ll bite your bum, the posh, the scum
& leave you blistered, black and brown
seeking out asylum
*
killing smiles say voodoo child, say wait a while
redacting files the crocodile smiles
mumbling quick ‘I’m sorries’
*
to what? to whom? the empty cell
the vacant room, closer to the tomb than womb
gazing at the morning
Grimbeau 