Inside the window
I was looking out of
An immense body of liquid was dropping
Upon the dark grey concrete
Sebastian, being a Norseman
And quietly sitting next to me
Made me consider the street a snake
Writhing and coiling and seething
As Loki took sweet poisoned revenge.
I had the icicle of a tissue up my nose
As my head was leaking out onto the tablecloth
Wait, this all being true; did I
Think the street a serpent? This is England
One does not talk of the weather
So knowing this, I talk of gods;
Of monsters?
Now there are faces
Outside the window
A pretty one,
One might call a goddess,
Her hands coiled around her eyes
Looking in
