4 Jul 2009

She writhes life's fallen branches

She writhes life's fallen branches
in the dusk of Summer's
Ashes, propaganda
flowing March bladed September

flagging precepts cities dwelling
by paradoxes by contradiction
a life in movement
watching clocks seaming metaphors

In a hurry, dusty pollen
flowing ashen protrusions wincing
lime light of flower patterns
towing clouds by breaths intrusion

fashioned beyond muckle life, a dew
of poppies heartbeats ardour
a catch in a dress, glowing pupae
in her hair of a cafe's libertine infusion

Heat's stress blushes her skin
like ripened strawberries, banished to
these meadows where we pollinated
by tonsils, tongues

the taste of flesh on honeyed bones

1 comment:

Sheila Murphy said...

I'm hearing you, Simon! Good!