Ant Smith

All poems

States of matter-imony

I keep vacuum bags I’ve filled
With the dust that fell from you
Wet my finger tip and dip
Sherbet fountain, tasty bits

I store the tears that were spilled
When I disappointed you
I like to bathe when they’re distilled
Salty crystals are my pills

Gas or liquid or solid, you are
Lovable in a bag, or in a jar
Anyone can love, tits or arse
Lips or looks or
Thoughts or fucks

I bottle odours you release
In the night time, in your sleep
Nothing smells to me so sweet
As you do under sheets

Gas or liquid or solid, you are
Lovable in a bag, or in a jar
Anyone can love
Flesh and such
I love you
To your guts