Madame Needlemaw

By Oscar O’Neill-Pugh


Madame Needlemaw

prepares the pins 

inside her jaw

and when she injects

her words inflect

and pirouette 

upon my heart,

spiralling, spurning and spinning up

these feelings that I regret.


But yet,

her probing proboscis 

remains my mistress

and my pin-cushion palms

reach out

for my next inoculation.

Pierced, punctured and prostrate

I wait

For her spiteful vaccination.




Madame Needlemaw



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