The Manchester Review
Matthew Welton
Four-letter words
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Lose your door keys. Kick over your lamp.
Pour your self some beer. Grab some fish-head stew.

Most days here don’t feel that warm – well well well well – most days here deep snow will fall.
Chew your lips till they itch. Pour more beer.

Open your note book. Play with your fork. Doze till dusk.

When some zany idea goes – blam blam – into your mind,
Play your self some fast – ding ding – free – zing zing – jazz – ting ting ting.

Stay wary. Don’t call home.

Then, when some soft oozy slug gets – urgh – onto your desk,
Lock your room. Hide your bike.

Don’t undo your coat.