In Rome the doctors do appear,
When to their patients they are called,
In places by the plague appalled,
Their hats and cloaks, of fashion new,
Are made of oilcloth, dark of hue,
Their caps with glasses are designed,
Their bills with antidotes all lined,
That foulsome air may do no harm,
Nor cause the doctor man alarm,
The staff in hand must serve to show
Their noble trade where'er they go...*
In times obscene, the snapshot forms,
On earth ‘The Daw man’ doth perform.
When tolerance runs beyond the limits,
The Beak Clinician springs forth and visits
to treat the seed, the mortal germ;
'The Janitor' skewers the human worm.
With rod in fist he serves the mother –
creeping to cots, her blanket, he wields
A Back Alley Abortion
Is not as cheap, unctuous,
or as stress-free
as you might think.
Emptiness comes at a price.
BAA BAA cervix sweep
did he wipe his tool?
The popping of an ovary
she should have been
A genial host:
Black Jack Daw
spent the night –
He wrung out every last
drop of sympathy into a
He finished her off slowly.
She sneezed mud
and brain fluid all
over The Counter.
Black Jack assured her that it is –
only natural to be frightened.
They made babies and deciphered idioms –
resolving brittle old riddles with intimate relations;
tiddles winked as contractions drained down the
sink in chunky blast waves of eighty eight.
He stamped the
ultimate exam papers
with his clock-work machine.
The perennial curse upon the
feeble minded slaves of faith.
Water bags break,
bad omens ache;
a hollow locust.
She wrapped the bug husk in a cellophane cist
and buried it beneath the dizzying death
of the future.
the mirror-drive: the glue factory –
the Ministry of Hooks and fraternal butchery;
dentist chair chambers armed to the teeth
with aluminium picks and latex claws,
the mortal gum bleed, the peel
and the wretched religiosity
of boiling martyr stars –
blistering putrid scores
The whore nets
nests with her pantyhose:
straining the skank
Returning from the holy land interment,
Black Jack euthanized the surrogate,
deactivating the only possible witness to the
sweeping sickness stemming
from her untouched uteri –
her unharmed hymen glowed
exposed to the dead sea air –
Beneath his protective costume and deeper,
below his abysmally mortified fowl flesh,
Black Jack Daw fingered pain –
teasing in-house stings and bites
with a rusty nail.
Delusory dire tribes,
non-existent profits –
lies, a fiction;
plaque and tartar scalpel
scrape an extremist clean
comes a calling
Daw to Daw,
drilling doctor –
Bubonic cull -
sweeps away the entire section,
the ash of pathetic infection,
dust panned and brushed -
the learning curve;
pricked and pinned -
a tiny nerve.
the desert absorbs a fallout blend.
he folds himself back up into
the building blocker bend,
where he shall hold fast
onto the helix weave
tucked inside the cosmic waif
biding his time –
the fail safe.