|
Tricky
I know I’m prone to embellishment, my memories corpulent with the lies I told myself in the hope and expectation of them lazing into fact, soaking details ‘til they diffuse to ambiguity. I don’t remember you before I added to you. They arrived. Looming
Multicoloured buildings, Taunting, threatening us with An unsettling unsteadiness. Blond man - why do you return? Speaking whispers to me of babies, Showers, dancing women in Crimson petticoats of pettiness. The thunder of silence, the creaks envelope Us, and chloroform the world. Symphonies of shadowtalk Lead me askew. Blond man - why do you return? Your cryptic tongue, shaggy hair and Baleful laughter - a non sequitur - Haunt me anew.
https://soundcloud.com/seven-voices/upsidedown-brash-brass
Single bed sprawlings
The single person who first designed single beds was dreamy hoping about sharing one, but never actually had: “Spacious for one, cosy for two - lovers’ legs woven at ankles, the side of your thigh, bodies warmed through winter.” Instead it's three am and my limbs are sprawled, sweaty, shoulder cramped ear on elbow and I'm awake again, writing poems on the air with my breath, this time, knowing this sprained overheated forever is sticky and sweet as honey between our arms, and chest, and legs. |
RSS Feed
