Monday, 5 November 2012
Stabbed, brambles that already burst with blood
I suck my purple finger, swear
And noticing the naked trees -
Quivering, shivering, bare in the frothiness of the light,
The moon exposing: bulges, knots and graven eyes,
I long to make them decent once again,
To make a fancy cloth of golden leaves,
An autumn patchwork stapled to their trunks.
Demented owls go twit-a-twoo
Shhh! Can you hear?
One spears a mouse, look!
Its sticky blood glows in the lanterns of her eyes.
The mirror cracks and splits your grin in two,
My lip’s still bleeding from the kiss you gave,
A silver curtain’s draped around the top,
The webs are thick with dust and fossils of
Like Dorian’s portrait maggots could breed
In your eyes.
I tear your face off the wall.
It shatters, clatters like the din of war,
Your face swims on the floor,
A sea of silver; memories are splinters.
Surrounded by your face so proud but grim,
Your lips are bluer than the grave is cold,
And mine are stapled, I speak with my eyes.
The tears are scraping, scratching in my throat,
That hurts with over-straining,
My mouth forms an ‘O’
A broken sound escapes, neither voiced nor silent,
A solemn song like a swan composing its own eulogy,
All words are obsolete now,
I closed your eyes before they lowered you.
I pause by your headstone.
It’s marble, beautiful,
Would win your approval.
The flesh may die but I still breathe the sweet
Scent of your soul.
You push your head up where the bones decayed,
Your eyes are sore and dazzled by the sun.