A Stain On The Reading Jacket. Poem by Alistair Plint

There is a bullet
in the
chamber
The lazer sights
have a carefully placed
reddot
focussed on my temple
(it burns like a farmyard branding)

I'm man enough
to take the bullet
coward enough
to leave the spawn
father-less
Wise enough to know
this bullet
won't shoot straight

It will maze
meander
through an eccentric
labyrinth
turn wrong
towards
a two year old
heart
killing an
emotional mind
that is only
four

Now

I don't believe
this woman
is the
trigger-finger-figure
I suspect
she's the one
who shouts

"PULL"!

So I sing
this pre-amble
A preparation
in a poem

To blow a kiss
Stare at her
tits
before
I wish her well
and whisper
"goodbye"
to her
panties