Alchemisland

When I hear sirens

And see blue headlights

Reflected off the underbelly of the sky

I look my wife in the eye and smile

Tell her to go back inside

Set everything alight

Inside, you see, it is very slight

A thousand copies of The Story of the Eye

By George Bataille, a favourite of mine

If you don’t mind, a book so deep you could mine

It has haunted my sexual consciousness since I was a minor (nine)

Expensive folio editions, battered ones from NCBI cost a fiver

Set the whole bloody lot alight, and man alive

Octopoidal reeds of flames bayed, craned high 

Scraped the sky

I can imagine them seeing it and saying fuck sake, get this guy

They wouldn’t understand, why do they have to pry?

All the shelves are lined, every single copy mine

My favourite dirty lines underlined

Anticipating such a day, all the charges primed lay

Ready; all they required a word, a gaze.

Today is that day.