like the way you can spread a nebula
on your morning toast
full of marmalade
The seventh sound of the forgotten Goon
avocado nipples until the sun sleeps
and all at once this moment was born
Waking up in a theatre with tiaras
full of glitter and scattered up the walls
a purple tiramisu cramped in a teacup
looking at you
stirred and goaded, pushed, egged on
with one final splash, the jacuzzi invited us
and we all agreed
… to burst the bubbles
back into the freckles of your shoulder.
The poem went back and forth between Dods and myself.
All illustrations, paintings and poems (c) 2010 Bon Nielsen
