Wildely Paradoxical

By Andrea Malcolm

So he’s standing with Robbie (not Bosie) among the lilies and sunflowers

in velvet of course

and peacock feathers

and blue china.

Their eyes meet-or hands, or lips or something, and

the dragon awoke

with a fiery flame that thrust through

his mind

his groin

his pen.

Earnestly breaking all shades of Grey with its

Rainbow coloured fairies. No more

Wandsworth or Reading Gaol

where all is moldy lice bread shut it, Aunt Fancy ‘for I get me stick out!

There

the dragon’s heart was

castrated

and Fans are just a memory for

M. Melmouth

(posing as a somdimite) with

nothing to resist, not even temptation

or love

(that dare not speak its name)

is christened.