Lundy to Manhattan
Monday afternoon in a retro diving suit,
can see my own brain in the reflection.
Jacked to the boat by hawser.
The shipping forecast went –
Dogger, German Bight, Dover, Viking, Biscay.
Could do with finding the rifle back on quarterdeck.
My crewmate, Konrad, has gone a bit lairy about
all these pseudo-modern attacks on Beethoven.
He could use a biopsy dart through the retina.
Knock him out, have an examination of his monstrous bottlenose
under my study table lamp.
Plan is to mooch around the ocean floor,
as a quadruped if necessary
from here in Lundy to Manhattan Island
just to hide out from the press.
I ran in a riskee play at the MeatHook
and the shit hit the fan when the reviews hit the Northern friars.
A whole hoard of UK proles want to mince me on a speargun.
I tried to tell Konrad about it but
just kept shaking his head whining about drinking
Kreik Lambik to his best friend Ludwig.
So yes, walk to the Arctic Circle if necessary.
Lie low.
Went to English government for a safe house
but after their meeting at the Presidium
they told me my best bet was to take an older lover,
marry and settle down
if I wanted somewhere to live.
Either that or hand over eight million pound dollars.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Tempest Miller is a writer from the UK. His work has appeared in Boats Against the Current, Swamp Pink and JAKE. He releases a monthly chapbook on Amazon. His Instagram is @tempestm1ller.
Image generated on Magic Studio
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