Mercy
Colin Newman / G. Lewis
Crooks lay in a weighted state
waiting for the dead assassin
while the rust pure powder puffs,
a shimmering opaque red.
Papers spread, no one driving,
we hurled direct ahead
The windows dark-green tinted the hearse a taxi instead.
Snow storms forecast imminently
in areas Dogger, Viking, Moray, Forth, and Orkney.
Keeping cover in denuded scrub, the school destroyed raised the club,
panic spreading with threat of fire.
Crowding beneath a layer of foam, refugees intertwined, alone.
Within the institution walls in pastel blue, clinical white,
slashed red lipsticked walls,
MERCY NURSE TONIGHT
Seems like dark grey stockings
in the raking torchlight
with 4 AM stubble,
a midnight transvestite.