Mould Man Re-re-draft

May 4, 2009

The Mould Man came today
and I’ve waited for him for so long
but he wasn’t what I had expected
no gas mask or boiler suit front.

But The Mould Man came like a prophet
sent by the agents, of De Montfort House
and he sealed up the walls in the bathroom
and painted them blue like an arctic cloud.

And The Mould Man had an answer for everything:
the death trap of wires rolled up by the door,
for the man from Bar Roma with children,
the famous poet I’d met while he toured.

He leaned on a door like a salesman
he listened to secrets like shadows on walls
he brushed them like prints off an apron
and folded them into a bag while we talked

And he wasn’t what I had expected
this man from the council of mould in the sky
but he left with the things that I told him
silent as spores, or a man, in the night.

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