Dane Holt



The Friday he has your money by
doesn’t come. ‘The reports are the reports,’
he says, not answering the phone.
He’s a match and every room he enters

has been filling steadily with gas.
The anniversary passes like a kidney stone
which gives him another good idea.
The best he’s had for a while. But

enemies, they’re clogging up his letterbox
and the names on the packages aren’t his.
‘Lighting strikes twice, but only if you’re standing
in the same spot.’ He actually said that once.

Beneath each of his eyes grows a small plum.
He thinks everyone everywhere
is having sex and actually enjoying it.
That’s what really really winds him up.


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