The prudes pierce her(?) with piercing pupils,
They’re scared they can’t pigeon-hole him(?),
They tutt savagely at her(?) scruples,
His(?) corseted carriage, crushed slim.
Unfamiliarity flaws them,
Exoticism spasms through them.
Where did this limbo lad or lass stem?
That they eye up like a pool of phlegm.
Universality murders,
She(?) just sports what Mother Nature gave,
This human keeping essence preserved,
His(?) mish-mash body tries to stay brave.
An enigma to society,
Stuck in the same-old Siberia,
Every bus ride bathed in scrutiny,
Every shopping trip sodden with fear.
Wish you were here?
I wish my soul would fit in a suitcase.
I wish my passport was a loose slut;
Who’d turn its back, on its lowly base,
Abandoning bricks and mortar for huts.
Because the brick walls are caving in,
Culture’s claustrophobic fog pollution!
I wish I could neglect my worthless things;
Severing my station in solution.
I’d never send a single postcard:
Once I travel wide, I won’t return!
A clean break, all my connections charred,
A cremated epoch: minus an urn.
If I had a bottle, I’d place a ship
In it and sail on crests, christened with choices.
I’d follow destinies, paved by coins flipped,
Not be dissuaded by loved-ones voices.
- by Sarah Parry
