just a quick blur of already dead

she's smoking more now she's pregnant
like a tacit protest
every bite on it like a grimace
in a baby's face
you, you, you, why

you got any cravings at all she asks
answers herself:
just cigs, me, that's all
they stick their hand right up
case of a cord prolapse
hurts like fuck and last time
it was a great big nigger

word hangs like that
the air all weaving
a knot around it
the word a huge bloody hand up
the back of a human puppet
squeezing its face up
whup whup whup
baby with no oxygen
and a cord round its neck

midnight
under poplars
all in a quick blur
of already dead

slept with him and him
and this and that
he's not up to much
don't ask -- just the fags, the cigs, me
a baby's head
breathe like that breathe
someone ought to say something here
like a baby's head in a plastic bag
someone ought to
full of smoke an' that,
breathe like you wasn't born
you was only shat
someone