My fingernails have turned blue from milking the wildebeests,
from tying their bluepink udders that bristle in the shower.
When their milk first comes, it strains black
but when plied with water it corrects to purple.

On the way home, I scan a man’s fingers on the train
then set up a test trial with his reflection in the window:

When I shuffle so does he             When I scratch my toes
so does he          When I drink he does too
midway through the journey the bottle is empty what will he do now
At one point I catch him straight in the eyes        a purple Christmas tree
flashes over his joker smile          the tinsel dissolves in the window
as the Shard is left in blue hackles          He looks away and I have won –

Adrian says he hates women with gummy smiles and I go home
where I am happy with openness. I fall like a marionette.
The children, unfed, for cattle won’t do. The water won’t
drain and the lilac piles ever blue.