Limp

I knew him.
I must have done,
My feet steered me round
A palisade of piss
And chip bags.
Down the kerb and up again
While his stubby staffy
led him, hobbling, past.
A sagging pit prop,
Shattered his knee
Prematurely interred
In shale and clay
Or a bolted horse
Dragged him, trampled him.
While he swung frantically
On the reins.
More likely, round here,
A stolen motorbike,
And misjudged corner.
Or he had a blade
And the other lad
Did too.
Strangelove to Vader,
Richard III and Silver.
Broken bodies
Hold evil souls.
I have no case,
Behind the handles
Of a chair.
Lifts before stairs.
And f. you
Like you
Think you
Know us.

Source: Trauma Queen - May 15, 2013 Category: Ambulance Crew Authors: Kal Tags: Poetry Source Type: blogs