Boris’s Holiday by Jonathan Taylor

I am not a silent poet

The only thing they have got to do is clear the dead bodies away.
– Boris Johnson, 2017

A skeleton straightens a bow-tie in the hotel mirror behind him.
On the beach the bikini undead block his way. He steps over them.
Spectral sandcastles are crushed underfoot by ghostly children
stampeding into transparent waves. A corpse proffers an ice cream
but his hand passes right through it. Nothing is real apart from him –
or so he thinks, till he finds his five-star evening meal already gone,
devoured by wraiths with bullet-hole eyes, laughter like machine guns.

View original post

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.