‘ I did steal it’ An ode to a 22 year old. Eliza Lawrence.

‘ I did steal it’     An ode to a 22 year old. Eliza Lawrence.

He took me everywhere

Whilst we diddnt even have to move.

 

Or we moved a little

Enough.

 

 

He took me through that door that

When opened wide

you see monsters kissing angels,

God spanking the devil,

MPs filling honest corners with honest truths,

Lovers and fighters playing backgammon on flying table tops

And in the lightest part,

A sly crooked old man shredding divorce papers below a chandelier that just hangs still.

 

I’m there hovering, watching, gripping his hand.

 

And we still don’t move

Or we moved a little

Enough.

 

When I release the first moan

( I can’t help it )

All that dwells in this fantastical glittering meadow turn to face us.

Slowly they stop what their doing.

 

The crooked man shreds his last divorce paper.

God beckons for the devil to fall to the ground and drops the feathered whip on the flowers below.

The angel holds tightly, so that the monsters malicious movement slows.

The politicians sit next to the lovers and fighters who close up the board game with a draw.

 

All together they bow at us.

For they had never seen such an equal pleasure had.

This time unselfishly,

He grips her hand back.

 

From nowhere the meadow starts to whistle and the nectar from the soft blades of grass start to slide softly through the noses of the inhabitants.

There. In that meadow.

Standing sober beside the drugged citizens stood the king and the queen.

And

They diddnt move

Or moved a little

Enough.

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