Breathless breakfast; Brexit breaks it.
We'd almost roll off the tongue
if not for the ex in the middle,
just as I rolled in tangled sheets
sweating over just how much the nation
hates immigration.
The pendulum swings
right to left
and back, drawing your curves
in vicious inertia and either way
we're in the red.
A pan-European project to address—
to counter-progress—
technocratic anemia: ecological
catastrophes and economic imbalances
spotlighted by iPhone notifications
of myopic irritations,
beside your
Italian leather
Scandinavian bed
made by migrants to mimic
a heavenly cloud where
only you may lay your head.
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