Thursday, 11 January 2018

A poem by Louisa Campbell

Sycophant


I‘m sick of vampires
with their blood-sucking,
head-fucking,
sharp-toothed
swing-swagger cloaks;
swooping round gaudy moons
embellished with boasting bats;
shrieking, love, love, while wiping
the blood from their chins
with white silk hankies;
moaning, poor me, oh poor me,
as they pounce and puncture,
then go to bed in a box.

And me?
I’m sick of me,
grinning with garlic,
cringing with a crucifix.
From this day on,
it’s a stake through the heart.






Louisa Campbell lives in Kent in England, where she writes poetry and adopts stray dogs. Published here and there, she has realised that life is silly, but important, and she is very happy about that. Her first pamphlet The Happy Bus was published in 2017 by Picaroon Poetry.


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