The Jane Sonnet

[4]

Briskly, like the tea we didn’t drink, walks upright

The last interloper. Missed a kick so lost the contest.

Our context isn’t shifting: you’re simply swaying

From too many plus-ones. If I say it clearly enough

Will you leave me alone with my twenty-sided die?

I didn’t think so, puffy. Bob Pollard’s got a hold

On my insides. Hope is flying. Don’t come on

The body but come with the body. Be beside one

Self, then the other. Engineers & plucky footwear

Designers no better than me. My name is Luka,

I live on the second floor, where I listen to David Byrne

& my stomach churn, star-kissed and bloody sans

Any real feeling. The treacle is spiked with sand.

Fancy a new striped Passover. Give me your hand.