This time I’ll let the Antarctic
Facility rush through
My gossamer focus with
Alarms hanging cobwebbed in the air
And warnings frozen mid- flight.

When they kicked me out their words tripped
Over syntax and distance;
Can purpose catch me where far
Figures fill and unfill little holes –
Somewhere so aimlessly real?

Something else
(At the antarctic facility) * 2

Hedonism’s a tail- chasing game:
The months run figures of eight and it’ll take
Swallowing these miles of moonlight
To swallow the day’s flickering
Glass fibre fails to smother.

The chocolate cake across my shirt
And their world’s red- tendrilled clutch
Drag me out of the cauldron of the morning
Coughing up grey shards
That sunlight always dissolves.