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Infinite Cake 
by Patricia Walsh

Anything looks appetising under the disco lights,

outnumbering cutlery on a given night,

writing out miracles on finite napkins

toughly adding to problems pervading.


Dead wives judge the man you’ve become,

heartened food corresponds to advertisement,

supposed victuals repeating the year

letting go hungry a new luxury tax.


Informatory calling out to display your name,

checking out the burnt offering progress

half-price returns after eating full well,

mis-formed candle-wax conforms to its mirror.


This elaborate hill, no attention span concocting

studied like fire and ice, moving in sagely

technical drawing like a ghost alighting

excellence through form a weathered bettering.


Dancing the other night, not handling freedom,

loving the misrule of engaging peers,

cleaning the silence over a murky cloth

engaging the better artefacts through cash.


Inducing the monster going over time

slammed into disability a temporary glitch

revenged served frozen, too crappy at it

a type of flood hits the water, infinite.

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