This bed a purse of flame and I, a hot coin thrown to its tawny lickings lie, het suckle-pig, skin lachrymose with rendered tears, beast burned to its bone – I have squirmed my own grease on the sheet’s thirsty pone. I paid for my dreams, blazed a cruel ascension in this bed … Continue reading ‘Villanelle to all my Wasted Flesh’ by Jane Burn