Perestroika
you sing like him,
notes glittery, dragged,
made-up, maquillaged
– perfect face – like his,
fey gestures arching the air,
curving neck of the snow-falling
frozen air – twice kissed –
The the Crossroads go,
Eat apples and honey under swollen moon.
Listen to the drums,
Fumble in confused sexual liaison,
With your heart beat.
Stand. Ever so still, so all that moves you,
Are the Earth’s vibrations.
Continue reading ““To The Crossroads, Go” A Poem by HM Barrett”
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