by Nick Gisburne
The clocks blow sugar tigers through my face
They wrap koala toes in rainbow clay
Tobacco snails pour soup from outer space
The snow cows interfere, but drain away
Spaghetti armadillos wax my chest
Their paws are tiny cakes, or so I thought
The custard queen breathes paint and chews my vest
She shines her cymbals with a squid she taught
In kilts of cloudy cloth, monastic toads
Build windmills from a purple tree of cheese
They sing of rum in French computer codes
While pompous oysters scrub my teeth with bees
The crunchy peanut universe is jammed
Experimental medicines be damned
