auntie downs a cup of drugs
to which her lips smacks simultaneously, in their
caffeined agreement and
an experienced tongue follows, consuming every
last bit of excitement
forking her way around each hollow
like a lover’s appendage
in another
- - she can only fantasise
and then to conclude her daily routine with a
240-volt smile
powered by the three-pin socket
on the back of her palm-sized mirror
a spotlight that demands immediate fall-in
from her new plastic recruits
satisfied, the drill sergeant inspects her tanned veterans
at flimsy attention on stamped soil
and commands them to henta-taki twice
before pulling out a shoe brush laced with white kiwi
to flush all traces of today, tomorrow, and every other day’s high
down the porcelain sink of her forgotten youth.
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