You eight inch divine vehicle
of holy fucking miracles. Artificial
stunt double always ready to compete,
you pack a stadium of 50 million seats
and the three of us watch the race.
Our monthly champ of the cervical
shot put, you know practice and perfect
aim won’t always bring a baby home.
So, you sterilise
off and get back in the game,
even though we keep losing.
A real good sport,
we keep betting
on you, hoping the odds
will bless us with the chance
to pass you to the life you help create,
so I can say: this is the mark you launched
from and my heart
was always the finishing line.
During lockdown, Carson adopted a cat to live like an eccentric writer, but now spends most of their time salvaging the poems her keyboard paws delete - rather than actually writing them. Surviving work can be found in Fourteen Poems, Stone of Madness Press, and Kissing Dynamite amongst others. @vincentvanbutch