Purple marches on,
Red hearts in a box
With bits of magazines
Kittens on her socks
Facets become assets
Before it breaks, it stretches
Bleach and long eyelashes,
Gifts, gifted and wretched
Check it out, and chase it
Red shoes, paper rabbit
Eye it, back it, face it,
Can’t see it, it’s all habit.
A collage, a broken mirror.
Bit of puppet, or a flower.
A view that becomes clearer
And more deadly by the hour.
Tucked into a box to keep
In ribbon, chains and wire.
Buried deep beneath a heap
Of invisible fire.
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