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Mermaid Wrestler


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Mermaid Wrestler


by Hadrian Boyle-Fawsitt



I still hear the ticking

of the clock high above

the only bare walls of white


light happy children

run and play

among the rubble of

spent dreams


scattered to four corner

winds blow

this way and that

tossing crisp dry

leaves that yes won't


look sadly back

accross divides that slow

separate me

and join all in out or as

tilt the table


turns pretty heads or

tails of in time

spent in power of ages

as if one ever


you wait in line so

drawn so straight

or gay abandon you

press the a flesh

in sweaty hands


christian and her son

draped in her arms

viewing a vatican

floor unexpecting

mermaid wrestler


collect their thoughts

on food stamps

the foot that has to rock

and role


another cigarette

another drink

another day another life

I still hear the ticking

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