Friday, 26 February 2010

Photo hide and seek.

Image by Sepulture

“You have the digital,
I’ll take the manual.”
Because she’s better at it, you see.
The wooden walls creak
when you’re trying to be quiet.
Stocking slippers snag
on the rough floor boards.
She can hear the drag of my jeans,
the soul of my breath,
the beat of my blood.
Finger on the trigger,
light, tight and trembling.
Blurred headlights, sweeping shadows
across the ceiling, make you jump.
Her room is quiet-dark.
The bathroom is empty,
but as you turn, you catch your reflection.
Mess of hair and shock of eyes
in a blue-grey tint.
Caught you.
And in the mirror
I see her movement,
hidden behind cupboard doors.
The scent of her perfume
as she inches, slow,
the wooden slats shiver
and I wait, unnoticed,
for the chance to take.
Flick, flash, finish.
She took the manual and
I had the digital.
She thought she was better at it, you see.


Thursday, 18 February 2010

All over the map

One glance and the frozen case of my poise patters
to the floor like shattered eggshells.
It doesn’t take a kiss to give me my fairytale transformation:
Frog to fanciful female.
Like a frosted fiction cloak woven in decaying darkness,
my dull aura suddenly blazes crimson red.
I cannot help but glow.

Not a muttered word stored,
trembling hot, in the footlocker of my mind.
Nor a panic desperate name whispered
in the dead of night.
Instead a lubricious crown placed on a golden head.
Red lips. Hacksaw serrated stare.
Nails screeching across my eager welcome smile.
My crystal wish-granted in pieces.
Little match girl.

Wednesday, 3 February 2010

Narrative wallpaper.

"Another Pennsylvania sunset
backed down the local mountain
spraying the colors of a streetfighter’s face
onto the narrative wallpaper of a boy’s bedroom"

From “The Homeowner’s Prayer,” David Berman


Soft yielding.
Palms flat against gentle padding.
Body curved in a foetal comfort.
Shift and the sheets tangle and strangle.

Can you see what I see,
drifting a frozen finger across my chaotic walls.
Under its touch the eyes of my people
twinkle and smile. They watch my hands.
Tap and stroke. Twitch and stretch.

Heavy warmth.
Feet tucked in rough blankets.
Weight sunk into enclosing layers.
Sigh and the breath clouds and shimmers.

I see her light
flight and flow along my beloveds.
I watch them blink and laugh,
pose and dance. A story for each face.
Brought to life, my narrative wallpaper.