by Jake Reynolds

In response.

‘Everyone knows. The world knows. It knows. But they’ll never know, they’ll never know, they’re in a different world.’ — Harold Pinter, Betrayal

Act I

Look at the way you’re looking at me.
I upped the contrast and bleached my teeth.

I wanted to go for lunch next week.
I have pictures of him, a right Clooney.

We took an old canoe out to sea.
He came in my mouth and called me sweet.

He wondered if you’d like to meet.
You can tell he was raised by a proper family.

Act II

You circled shows in the What’s On TV,
took baby gulls to the RSPB.

I told you to do bad things to me.
So you kissed my nose and fell asleep.


It started the night we were married;
mini bar bottles made you uneasy.

So we drank fizz from squat cups for coffee.
My bones crumple zoned when you held me.

It started when we met. An old dream.
The day I saw you, I felt at ease.

A new dream. A dream on repeat.
Look at the way you’re looking at me.

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