307. meet the parents
have you seen the sphinx ?
she beckons –
it’s at the bottom of the garden
in a rabbit hutch
behind the sofa
and would you like a Rusty Nail ?
as father eyes me up
like a trophy that just might
end up on the wall,
picking his teeth, studiously.
Only another hour
Chlamydia murmurs,
squeezing my hand with her
Bhopal-gifted plastic fingers.
One down, fifty nine to go
shouts her teenage brother
tearing past –
acne in hot pursuit.