LEAN CUTS




a passing doctor teases smut from a wife’s dormant eye
                        cups of tea brimmeth over, trains scream by

                       
flibbertigibbet along low lines of meshes in graveyard fog
pipsqueak steals vittles for the hulking convict agued agog


Tojo’s train chunts tooting to Kwai’s wooden bridge
POWs bend iron rules, feverish jungle shivers to sticks


guiled by the FO, caressed by the sabulous folds of Arabia
Lawrence’s mirage discharges guns and camels to Aqaba


down moonlit hill, the English officer runs breakneck, lame
his cailin’s passion charged with treachery, tarred by shame


the red-flagged loco puffs white steppes of army patrols
moon and frosted stars dissolve to stormy petrels


catching the moon in the Ganges, not her bespoke in Marabar
the mem-sahib salaams shaken, broken on wheel’s karma

                                                           
                                                                        Michael Small

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