freshness guaranteed

if anyone were to ask, my bed

is the picture of bliss –

duvet wrinkled with

peaks and crests of my own

making, I, godlike

the ident of my body

fetal position, odor

of sweat and obscene humanity that just

won’t budge no matter

how ardently the advert – “freshness guaranteed ” –

promises it will – lies

the light is spilling through the

blinds, intent on revealing what I have tried

so hard to conceal

try as it does to disturb the fragile peace

of this mausoleum of the night

before –

bliss, as I said

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mercy full

I see my eye

reflected in the surface

cloudy

of warm coffee

eyes distorted but

gaze unwavering

your knuckles are

dry and cracked

as they cup smooth

porcelain;

victims of your uncertainty

its too sweet. But

you don’t know

me like that yet so

i forgive you

“Good morning, sunshine”

Silk underwear
discarded
like a growing mould against
cracked enamel bedpost.

The sun spills across
my bed as
the blinds cannot contain it
endeavour as they will to
console me,
to maintain this fragile
stillness.

The bed sheets are a
mess, skewed and twisted into
pale peaks and curls
hieroglyphs, symbols of a dead language.

Knees weak, I stand and
open the window a crack
but the unforgiving stench of
living, breathing bodies still
lingers obscenely.

Black coffee, cold.
Cloudy surface tainted only
by the fossilized pink mark
on porcelain rim.
This, too, is offensive, this
base mercy, this cruel pity.

 

April

ice in a glove
bluebells and cow parsley
dust in the corners of our eyes

early encroaching morning darkness
pregnant; an echo chamber

the trees were bare
shut out with finality
we took refuge in an
airless suspension

Upon a morning, a turn.
A heavy, cloying fragrance-
magnolia in bloom

arrogant, seductive, teasing
a terrible beauty.

As day gracefully took its leave
darkness would return, begging
on blended knees
a friend

transient solace.
The ecstatic blossoms never far
away, gratuitous
a strange vitality.

Sun spills through the window.
They drink their fill but we
hide in corners
speak in whispers with
eyes downcast