FebulousFebruary 2026: The Old Photograph

Doors 

My door whore is Screaming

through my broad hairy chest

to my glitzy heels

Ding dong! 

I am there 

flinging open drapes 

From the street

To safety of our 

Home.

Hovel. 

Heaven.

Head downstairs my darlings!

Join the party.

Flick my fan open and closed like a shield

Marking my territory back and forth forcing my heel and heel to the curb owning my patch then…

I see him

His stride 

His posture

His sound 

His silence

His hands in his pockets

His hair line

His face!

Knowing mine has been made up for him.

I’m silent

No heels to hit the curb

I’m stuck

No word to hit the mist.

He crosses by

Past

Down the stairs 

At the same rate

As my laden lashes

Fell.

I love him.

Adam Haylock-Lott

Wye