There might be something not quite rational - OK there is definitely something not rational - that while I am happy to blog prose, pics, micro-text like words, punster titles and drawings I am often shy of posting poems, it seems too like self-publication ( yes, yes, see above). However once something has slipped off into the state of general publicaton I figure it might not be unreasonable [there, that imposter Reason again] to post the occassional poem. 

So, since Cupidness, slipped into the The Australian Review last Saturday, I figure it, and Cupid, are fair game.


For years Cupid is my boss, sending me to stand
talking and fidgeting in bars, to lose concentration
in conversations. The dress standards she exacts

mean expensive underwear, legs groomed to silk
slickness so that each might fall for the other
as it tests for smooth.  There are letters of demand,

where I write myself into delicious corners, journal notes –
part belligerent part fieldwork, late night calls to make, windows
to stare out of on long bus rides and sentry duty in phone boxes .

Then almost I think I’m fired, slipped off the payroll,
unemployed, no more night shift, no more stupid bar work
but then I find, here I am again, doing this. 

(C) Carol Jenkins

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