He builds a city……

Mandy Beaumont

To make a city out of conversation

he cuts down teeth

from his lovers blanched mouth

In a night that fights,

smells of ammonia and

burning steel wool

sit in the corners of

the units’ outer corridors

and the red from the tops of nails

glint around his doors architraves

Different shades

/like the age found in a tree trunk/

show his past works in progress

He finds the pale cream walls in his unit

strangely erotic

loves the smell of stale almonds

that gets caught under his convention oven

And

behind the dull yellow of aged papers

looks for women fixed on afternoon movement

When summer is at it’s peak

heat builds in his pockets

tailored to hold in his curious habit

/as often wearing a women’s heart on his sleave makes laundering a bitch/

To make a city out of conversation

he imprints hot chillies

into her cheeks

to stop her screams,

and makes her a midnight snack

prepared in silence

placed on a flannelled cloth

His acute sense of smell

finds the edges of scent

on her downed hands

held together by packing tap and

the side of a wooden fruit box

Her fear

caught in every room and between

each glance she makes at the hallway mirror,

shapes blisters at her lips

And, when later tonight he builds

On the foundation of a city

/parring knife, black plastic sheets, Mozart played on high/

his skills in engineering will be tested

As in all the text books he holds

he knows that blisters

always make the foundation of a city

unstable