so, i was balancing
the communist manifesto
on my head
when you said
"i'm loving engels instead"
and thought you were funny.
i tried very hard
not to laugh
(at your jokes).
i tried very hard
not to write poems
(about you).
i tried very hard
to get you tuesday-drunk
and said "let's read
engels/marx slash fiction."
but i left you
with hair-spiders in your bathroom;
mould in your mugs;
unsavoury internet history.
why shouldn’t we spend
the rest of our lives together
inconveniencing each other?
now
i’m burning pages
of our little red books and swearing
that when I’m in power
i'll light bonfires on every street
corner where we kissed
i'll see the side of the morning
that the real poets write about
and try to occupy the space
between my head and my heart
for once.
