Poem — Miro Bilbrough

Door-snake 

 

Door-snake got rolled. Dumped on the
fringes

of a shabby precinct, night.

Door-snake was outsize, dirty puce.

I mean, fat. Man-size. Spent

the evening carousing in a low-life joint.

Fleshy, hairless and invertebrate too.

No wonder door-snake got rolled,

passed-out in an unfamiliar doorway.

A genuine article of the Underworld

rolled up from the stench below.

Shameless the way door-snake lolls

like that, totally out of it

and losing it at the seams

in full view.

Miro Bilbrough

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Poem
Search
Subscribe to NZ Books
We're pleased you're using the New Zealand Books archive.

To ensure the survival of this important journal, please consider
subscribing — only $44 a year, or $30 for digital-only.

Go to the Subscribe page.
Search by category

Read more