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MICHAEL BOTUR

Wet & Forget

 

I’m hosing out my head

waterblasting regrets, unpeeling lichen stickers

here’s one stuck nugget:

slithering belts unbuckled

methane-breath inside the cold damp duvet

we scuttled under

timid nibbles, your moth lips

a cavern of nitrogen

your mildewed clothes beside

a dribblin’ Wellington window

your theories on your flatmates

 

Here’s more mucky fungal memory

hiding under my hypothalamus:

wrestling moves, goose bumps on your belly

a chubby stiffy

biting your chin

pinching your skinny wrists

unlocking your bra

letting the loot loose

frigid moon

a rare glimpse of street-sweepers

we swapped pink sticky bits

chameleon-amphibian tongues

you asked advice on your essay, agonised.

Hey – you awake?

 

Time to give the ol’ frontal lobe a goin’ over

(there’s crumbs frozen in the fridge-frost)

botched and aborted baking

abandoned beers, broken bras

dumpster-diving for expired deli delicacies

giggling through uppity meetings

my hand eating your thigh

in the rear of the lecture theatre

you, twitching, shuddering, an eel dying.

I once undid your watch clasp

with nothing but my teeth and tongue.

 

One last unpeeling patch needs a stubborn scrubbin’:

you, fumbling for your glasses on the nightstand

you, right-angled, pulling your cardigan armour on

brittle, prickly, bristling, dissecting my text

but, to be honest, this is all a guess

I wasn’t even there

I gapped it without breakfast

didn’t sweep the crumbs up

sorry ‘bout the mess.

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