A sad poem about Mercury. Well, it makes me feel sad at least.
There’s a spider on your cheek
To the right of a wrinkle.
Has it become a feature of your
Do people stare and sketch it?
What long days you keep.
I will turn my eyes on you tonight,
Because there is no romance to the burning dog
Dragged like a myth to the tune of a truck –
And no roses or violets
Will sweeten that path.