Friday, 26 November 2010

#58: Ear Removal

People queued for hours, days,
to get it done. Strictly backstreet,

a kind of nod and a wave type job
then you'd be led through a curtain

of butcher's strips into a sort of arena,
earless dozens jostling shoulder to shoulder

to watch you standing knock-kneed in the sawdust,
shoulder gripped by a man in a velveteen hood,

craft knife balanced like a quill in his free hand.
The lights would dim, your heart fighting

to escape your chest. Finally, a drum roll
that only you could hear.

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