By | 1 September 2023

after sylvia
& tina

I look for you
in the crinkle pop
blister foiled
two moon mournings
after I swallow
third eyes
mahler’s fourth
vision of heaven
waiting and
just like that
puckered rings toll
bells, wake
the love parade.

I smell drizzle
then dehydrate
hard yakka on the fly
and blood left brown
on skin which vespers
spittled spirits
‘cos when you’re done
I try to hum how I died
a little bit
the french),
how you’ve
mopped up when I came
to settle
to bury you so much

slower :
to arterial
my mouth will tessellate
of your virus
or at least a la niña
where we blamed girls
for the reservoir
where youse are a flood
bastard musk
and our throats pitch here to
O god
or something kinder
but still

and we learn to wean
the diminutives back-
arched, mouth pillowed
covenant to tithe points
of milk-warm,
crystallised honey.

This entry was posted in 110: POP and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Comments are closed.