My love is a mansion with many rooms to see.
I’m asbestos.
My love’s a glittering surface, scrubbed spotlessly.
I’m the germ that can withstand Domestos.
My love is a Penelope rose. I’m the canker.
My love is Independence. I’m the Union.
My love is a passenger. I’m the wanker
sat next to her, eating egg and onion
sandwiches, saying ‘I’m no bigot, but…’
My love is a peach. I’m its hard nut.
My love’s an open threshold. I’m the dark within the door.
My love is untouched land. I’m a shovel. Go dig.
My love’s a high-minded principle. I’m its war.
Come to think of it, my love is a prig.