My eyes slide over arms and legs
and catch  a glimpse as
I don’t know I don’t know
stutters down the corridor 


I hear myself crushing the mystery
as the hotplates generate heat
to tabloid slogans


Somehow with enough time
we all get better


Remember charm
peacocking through
this cupboard


For now
charisma is caked on


I speak over
with a plea
from my chair and
no one even sees 


I turn my head
for a second glimpse
apprehended by sweetness


Tomorrow I’ll bow out
to those young