deepundergroundpoetry.com
Watching For, Peter Rabbit
In the cold of the night
ripping buttons on my death
listening to the shadow rot
thinking something I forgot
of chains in the corridor
a scream of my mime
dwelling in the chamber pot
of urine forget me not
but it's only a spitoon
for chewing my spit
giving rise to a glob
no snob am I
but it could have been clouds
in a storm of the insane
watching for Peter Rabbit
climb into my shroud
ripping buttons on my death
listening to the shadow rot
thinking something I forgot
of chains in the corridor
a scream of my mime
dwelling in the chamber pot
of urine forget me not
but it's only a spitoon
for chewing my spit
giving rise to a glob
no snob am I
but it could have been clouds
in a storm of the insane
watching for Peter Rabbit
climb into my shroud
Published 2nd Mar 2023
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