Keith

ROTTEN EVE

Sound drips down

in a pear drop frown

and the wind down window

in the see-through gown

is so tight bolted

that her lips are purple

and her tears blood-salted.

On the street

eyes flicker

as the neighbours bicker

about just how sicker

can a human get.

And fly-black fungus

just grows and flows

round the fickle house fence

that was no defence.

Upstairs

gossip rapes her remaining sense

and leaves her game

for the six o\'clock news

and the virus views

of no one she knows.

But, wrapped in red paper,

She continues to bruise.