Poem: Male Tilda Swinton


Here I am

The male Tilda Swinton

Gentle and serene

I sit on a table

By the Symonds Yat shore

As the sun sets

Uncrossing and crossing

My lithe legs

With elegant infuriation

I am a criminal –

What have I to offer you?

A tasteless sense of humour

A bank-vault of fetid rags

And a wealth of wisdom

I can’t always promise

But always strive

To put into practice

So, I’ll uncross my legs


And torture the little mouse

Like the demented cat I am

A won’t always be a harbinger

Of such placid worry

Toss me in the lake

And my pale skin

Will be the moon

That intercepts

The Earth


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