Hot and clammy – an iron
diktat from
the local climate.

Every afternoon
thousands of
eggs, babies, bulge
in the monstrous swollen
eyes, nose and mouth.

In light of moon and halogen
lips black as grapes seem
to purse for this
their final
lonely kiss.

While the camera zooms in
on this slow boiling
one pale white gob
(a drop from a
leaky tap) falls
prey to working ants.

After the slugs now
vultures too are
rewarded for their wait.

Startled they take flight
and vomit.