In deepest dark she slips through silent streets,
with balaclava, aerosol in bag,
to draw her dreams and sign her ornate tag
on each blank piece of brickwork that she meets.
Graffiti is too blunt an epithet
for craft and dedication such as this ‒
an artistry that's burnished with a kiss,
a flourish of poetic paint vignettes.
John Wilmot is her one true guiding light ‒
she re-works slogans of another world
in homage to that syphilitic Earl:
'Let's Swive Again', 'I'd Rather Swive Than Fight'
and 'Swive Thy Neighbour' sprayed upon a wall
in handsome letters nearly five feet tall.