Alchemisland

The unwelcome hotbloodedness summoner

Strolled up to my low garden wall and droned drolly

I alone prove how nothing changes

My aching bones and wet cake face

My noisome knees and bundy roll fingers salient-caked

Like the boot of Tommy who ate it

Bought it, the bullet, or mortar in this case, on whose case

Was inscribed a name;

That writ and his font’ly-ordained mauley scrawl selfsame.

How trite and hackneyed it feels replying

That one has caught one at a bad time

No one ever calls

Except when everything’s on fire.

When I’m stood in my hall blood covered,

Dad in the back bludgeoned to death over Monopoly debts,

Someone would call over to surprise me, on that you can safely bet.