Nibble the nail, waggle the tail,
Watch the olive bubble and burst
Bobbing in blue eyes that fidget and flirt
Beneath a grey budget cut, stoic and square,
A clipped LEGO do that perfectly frames
Frameless glasses, all lenses and glare,
So perfectly, that momentarily it’s hard to perceive,
Where the human begins and the plastic recedes.
Feed the earlobes some slack so they
Billow and sag; lower than vines in a swamp,
Bend the branch with a stomp,
Ripening fruit turns to wine if it wants
A belly pregnant with flies,
To drag down the skin
’til it hangs past his eyes.
Drips of cold custard flung at a wall,
Can’t cut the mustard, he’s expecting a fall
Cos something’s got him squirming,
Worming it’s way inside of his head,
Cut off the crusts to reveal the bread.
And still his chin bobs, this way and that,
Badge on his collar, hands in his lap
Fingers twitch anxiously, twisting, turning,
Gripping, gurning when he catches a nail,
Fiddling fingers curtail each cuticle,
Pushing them back until the nails are minuscule.
Now they grasp and entwine, latticed like vines,
Tightening the knot that’s tied up his heart,
At least it’s a start, not the whole, but a part.