Dictate

When you speak

on your imaginary podium

rings of smoke escape from the gaps

in your teeth

like maggots sliding down

the bin-liner

as rampant as mosquitoes 

breeding.

The cleaner comes 

on the morrow

to lay the sawdust over 

your last release

damp woody splinters,

letters swimming in bile

such drips from the garden hose

billowing out filth.

Crowded bystanders

raise their eyebrows

at the girl in her mothers clothes

Pointed tail between your legs

you scurry back

between the rock and the hard place

as predictable as the corner piece 

of a puzzle.