I will never talk to you, Naomi
I will never break the code
Behind which you hide
You held the court in your hand
Your face, inscrutable
Dark glasses. Black on black
You were glamour personified
You ride your celebrity like a raft
Fame itself is your muse
Magnificence in obsidian
Down the cat walk, you stride
That dictator business was merely
A trivial inconvenience
You are a goddess, after all
What does it matter who died?
Remember the days that we spent
On Streatham High Road
Scouring Woolworths for a ring?
It did not happen. We did not coincide
At least you did not batter me
Here, Naomi, take this pebble
A diamond for my troth. May it
Unfreeze your hurt, inside
