SALISBURY PERSPECTIVES POEM 8

The heat is sultry and dances around one's body like a tango. Back and forth it sways rhythmically mesmerising one to its purpose.

---

“My life looked good on paper - where, in fact, almost all of it was being lived.” Martin Amis

Paper Trail

We are discovered my love for our secret,

Is written and the penalty is clear,

Our papers carelessly sent and strewn,

Have been read and registered so now it is known.

A line of papers filed in order exposed,

Like the white nape of your neck,

So studied that I remember it by wrote,

I recite it daily so as not to forget.

Do you feel strange now our lies,

Are so very ordered that we could be,

In court with the ruled line and gabble,

Our fantasy not fact nor fiction?

Closing my eyes I see it once again,

Brushing my lips against the white,

I smell you and hear your hoarse voice,

Begging to remember it once more.

"But of course it was an American paper. The Americans always go one better on any kinds of beastliness, whether it is ice-cream soda, racketeering, or theosophy." George Orwell