Sleep walk

Sunshine on our taxidermy
books left open in half
propped up on sofas
black stains in the carpet
on our clothes
somnambulent caravan
forging through days
voyage through grey cloud
ash tray eyes
crumpled and misty
forage and stir from sleep.
Blunt pisscock spinning
from a weather vane spine,
stark fabric wombed
a crumby nest
a popinjay's blistering hoard,
and the vanguard cloud broke
back into the world
to radiate again
to make our guts jump
feel hunger under hothouse skin
sulphur skull of the last drop
lashed from a dark sky
along a pristine wing
to winnow and gale in the roof
and ripple the filthy sheets
into a seance grin.