Not a Lot of Glottal Stops

Red squirrels, a tired grey possum, and a werewolf.
The possum and the squirrels are not totally here.
Primarily, they are in another universe.
The werewolf is all here and totally hungry.

‘I am half hungry,’ says the possum, voice projected
from a heatsink and a distant frozen planet.
‘We are not half hungry,’ say the famished squirrels.
Our thin vicar, for the werewolf, was a snack

and our buttery Bishop wears full body armour.
’Buttery,’ moans as the werewolf, ‘and full-bodied.
I can’t afford such metaphors. I’m starving.’
‘They’re not,’ the possum answers, ‘metaphors.’

This dream dissolves in glop and glottal stops.

From SEMI-SENSED DREAMS, a series so far as I know of one.

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