first line of Five To One

capture me in your church pews,
project me onto all the walls you're yet to level out and point,
re point,
fuck it
get a trowel,
let's point the seams together
come shit and foul weather,
pour orange juice across kitchen floors,
slide in the pulp,
the back of post-it note gum,
stick me to bathroom mirrors
let me remind you to buy milk
whilst you pluck another late train
from your brow line early on Monday mornings,
bank holiday schedules,
mum modest hung jewel;
Spielberg turned you down 'cos
you're one art school that can't be contained,
captured between church aisle pews.

we'll get out alive.