Wick Poem by GRANT FRASER

Ear wax
a residue

are you listening
intently?

word affected,

infection!

don't drive it in...

we beg you,

through a heart

'hair thrown back',

what's next?

you can't sit there
like that, pretend
that self extinction
is counter productive

make more room
space to breathe

I couldn't last night,

had a lung attack,

the air nowhere,
maybe the atmosphere,

worried for a snap
along the coast road,

this is it - maybe,
as simple & cool
as a Fox's glacial mint,
in the glove compartment,

my body wrapper
lying slightly crumpled,

done with,

sucked out!