Skin-envelopes
pushed through the letter box of life
with no return address.
Left to mimic a pulse
in a karaoke club.
Duct-taped bananas.
Broken shredders.
Imprinted ducklings
confusing medium
for a mother.
Poured paintings,
like a load of Pollocks.
Colour schemes
to match the curtains!
Prêt-à-porter bricks
on the gallery floor,
to mark the final
resting place.
John Walter Taylor
© All rights reserved
7 October 2026
