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Tom Jenks - Two Poems

Tom Jenks

when it gets dark, I fetch my special spoon

I drank nothing but celery juice for seven days.

I ran around the internet and wore antlers wired to the moon.

I was steward of the roots that twist in the ground, sundrysilver pools.

Is it true that UHT milk cures everything if you rub it on a sponge

and then rub the sponge on a bit of yourself.

This is not a joke, this is grave.

Listen doc, I am coming down with it.

I have a fat, domed belly full of pasta.

I eat because of emotional conflict, which I represent unflinchingly.

I get drunk with the wood elves out in the National Park.

We bang our thumbs with hammers and our thumbs they do throb.

Can you do anything about these, they are hanging down.

Can you give me something to tie them up, like twine

or the string they use for hams.

When we couldn’t get conkers, we used water chestnuts

which were a waste product then, like goose fat or memories.

the temperature of the water

The temperature of the water in the carafe is moving slowly but steadily towards ambient temperature.

The temperature of the water in the unisex bathroom is covered by a management waiver.

The temperature of the water in the reservoir should be kept below the algae threshold.

The temperature of the water in the ditches varies according to conditions and altitude.

The temperature of the water in the waterfall is regulated by a hidden thermostat.

On Wednesdays, I cross the water to visit our many magical caves.

What is the temperature of the water around you?

Have you ever recorded it, for reference?

copyright © Tom Jenks, 2019

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