THAT'S TORN IT

for MH-S

If the Minister of State for Health dropped his keys
in the street outside his home and bent from his back
and not from his knees as we're told, then his trousers
would stretch over his arse and rip. And the cameras
would catch it in a battering of flashbulbs and the hacks
would laugh at the red lipstick print emblazoned
across both cheeks as if they'd been kissed. His wife
would stand in the window aghast, while tatters
of fabric flapped round his bum before tumbling down
to his ankles. A leveller this. Stood in the street,
feeling the breeze on your balls and your thin thighs
twitching like a giraffe standing after just being born.