Unreadable Language

by Holly Hopkins

Graffiti is personal; like signing your name.
In banks, the girl wets her fingers
on a small orange sponge to help her grip
the many cheques
all signed.

I cannot read the angular curves
except FROSTY halfway up lamp posts
and crazed into street signs,
like a child practising his signature
eating a whole pad of paper to make himself unreadable
unrecognisable
adult.

The smash of stars which hover round his mark
will fade into dots, full stops, punctuation,
lost is frosty the snowman
or hints of fairy dust.
Ting! Frosty the adult
his writing illegible
on the bridges and sidings
and scratched windows of trains.