Copyright,
that logo like a dog
pi$$ing on a post,
its neverending tail
flipping bird
to the honest zero.
And silent the heels
to glossy page threes,
burst water pipes in feline hip bombs,
Dark the mark
that exclamation crevice.
Bold and cheeky fonts all,
and like the big brother
smoldering of a happy TM trademark,
the chancers crease a page
with saturated grids...
© Steven Francis poems 2012