poetry, prose
an old wives' tale of rescue romance, 2021
Hark! Hark! He knocks!
My door
it punctures through.
I, distressed,
now blinded by its chest,
four Hooves, two Feet
advancing.
Its body sheathed
and bound, harnessed
in Charm,
Protected
but not protective.
My roof squeaks,
lights flicker,
there’s a Thing in this house
that keeps getting bigger.
A pressure that pops the nails
from the floors,
poking, prodding,
and bumps the pictures
off the walls.
I, narrowing,
shrinking.
Dread, densing.
It, leering.
Eyes on my underbelly.
Hide, silken,
shield, shiny.
One day I’ll look back
and think of this fondly.
Snap to grunts and heaves
and hos,
tearing the tiles
from the bathroom walls.
Hooves thrusting,
I’m absorbing
the stench of sweat,
sewered,
beading on that
rearing neck.
Oh, I’m plucked,
I’m clenched,
I’m caught!
I feel I’m overflowing
in a presence predatory
now lurching,
hysterical,
from door to door,
from room to room,
and drawer to drawer,
rustling in robbery,
making weapons from the cutlery,
lurking in my periphery
is it and all it’s left for me.
Oh, my home! My injured home!
Sullied and swallowed and spat on.
Four feet, Two hooves,
retreating
smugly,
back through the hole
once a Door.
malevolent architecture, 2021
I stand before a door
barely standing,
worn
with the weight of nails
that puncture it,
half-heartedly.
Wind whistles through
the gaps in its slats;
permitted to pass
only by virtue of its vulnerability
that I feel vicariously now.
It flings open with the wind like an injured wing,
and I am ushered in
before it swiftly slams
with a shriek
that echos down a corridor
I can’t quite see the end of.
A stain in my blindside…
this house seems bigger on the inside.
But I am eyed,
by the portraits that tail
my fawn-footed movements
like bloodhounds.
And my eyes
capture little,
except for in their corners,
where things seep in
and leak out
the air around me
tugs me,
strokes me.
and I’m reminded of my body….
I peel back a sliver of skin
from the red trench
of my nail bed
and notice
that the wallpaper and I
share a vice.
There is unfinished business
beneath the flickering
of these lights,
among the scurrying of mice,
that shit and shed in the gaps
between walls
wherein a silent bell tolls,
spills, pools
and curls in the ear -
burrowing to the brain
like a mite.
the sea-maiden, 2022
of / and / might / the / and / and / of / witches / took / it / And / Then / "Take / and / the / and / the / the / to / the / called / sky / a / but / plaster / the / on / again: "Return, / to / "Take / for / and / water / find / fetch / wove, / so. / no / house, / voice / they / she / and / in / look / and / but / sieve / together, / upon, / she / did, / well / house. / over / of / women, / and / call / the / the / or / her / poured / bring / cake, / all / mistress / said, / upon / they / to / tried / near / move, / the / them / and / she / by / bind / from / went / meal / bring / and / from / the / spinning-wheels, / the / she / for / she / with / and / a / women / cake; / spell / voice / water / mix / sieve / one / their / the / to / she / nor / could / none / her. / make / together / so / utter / but / when / 'The / sieve / them / could / and / singing
the horned woman, 2022
Three / and / he / beside / the / came / in / give / He / and / dog, / On / be / side." / me, / two / "For / were / world / at / spoil. / falcon. / shares / "if / there / great / pool / of / And / of / claw / otter, / dog, / divided / a / When / be / of / will / horse, / black / the / fell / falcon, / me, / I / horse / on / the / for / the / for / the / morning / a / took / his / the / to / foot / of / father / bit, / the / to / Said / on / an / saddle / off / a / they / him / aid, / and / black / divide / he / and / good, / put / pillow. / said / he / down / a / he / thy / were / swiftness / a / thee, / swiftness / carcass / loose / crook / that / thy / the / next / them. / of / dog, / will / and / a / thy / side." / side." / on / three. / sheep / went / or / mind / or / will / and / the / will / I / and / hardship / with / to / will / the / will / comes / shares / swimming / the / be / it / the
lake living with old lovers, 2022
Brutus and Nero still visit me in dreams / their jaws stronger, teeth sharper
I no longer check the underside of my bed / I know they’ve grown too long and fat / to fit
but now they walk my muddy perimeter
they’re bored of catching water birds / and I’m bored of finding bloody feathers / on my porch
I sense they’re getting restless
the man with a hook for a hand understands
how to build a barricade / from a desecrated rowboat
that if worst comes to worst / bed sheets burn better
to never crack an egg / in the presence of a predator
that driftwood can’t be trusted
I understand / that every stone I’ve skimmed / now sits in the belly of a beast overbred / and overfed
but the lake won’t let me drag it / there’s too much to lose / and nothing to gain
so I’ll put up a sign that says / don’t swim here / with the years it will splinter / the paint will fade
the wood will weaken / and slip from the bank / soon into the mouth / of the thing it warned of
All the while / I’ll go over everything / in my mind / a thousand times
but the shape of Brutus and Nero won’t change
their yellow eyes like headlights / steady and keen / are watching me through the windows
no birds are left to tide them over / they’re back to bigger and better things