He takes his dinner in the bed
Love sickened and infirmed
The orderly found him there
Filleted on the marble stairs
Hat still in hand
His smoking remains blown out by a kiss from Nurse
Someday Soon
Someday soon, someday soon, someday soon
Someday someday someday
His eyes are closed he mouths her name the rosary her lips and tongue
She is the centrifuge that throws the spires from the sun
The Sistine chapel painted with a Gatling gun
Someday soon [x5]
Polar nettles set on end
Move like starlings up a cliff
antennae of her foggy touch
The forcefield round her frosty hips
Whose shape recalls the wicked spade
That buried him but on his lips
the last rites of Nurse Someday Soon
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