Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Heavenly Food

Fat dark fly meanders unfelt on dogtooth check lapel
of silverbearded wary auburn man: a territory. Silver
cup of blood held out. Body shakes; a moment. Hands
palm up as if on the beg. My body. Everybody
in a line going back to where my eyes don't go.


  1. It took me a couple of reads to get it (and your added label) (I'm slow). Clever you.

  2. Glad you went with it, Marie.

    I wasn't trying to be a smartarse, honest. There's always that poetic economy I'm subject to; a fear of there being anything in excess.

  3. I do get that pattern of economy in your poems. I think it's very easy to go into excess when one wants to express something very strongly, it's easy to add and add and add because one thinks it will help explaining, and it actually doesn't. So your fear must be a good one :-)