Tails you lose, so for the exhibition
I fired ten ceramics as the apology
you never got round to making

in pen and ink. This one’s a bijou collage
of all the phoneboxes I cried in as a waitress
between split shifts. That one’s my glass slipper.

You see, it fits perfectly. Manolos, if you must
know. And here’s a game of poker
made from the buttons of a shirt you left

behind, twisted and stuck on green felt.
Let me get this right, you both being lawyers,
did you say you were the loser and she the liar

or vice versa? Word for word, please.
Oh, and, can I have that in writing?