Trying out her wings

Pain killers did not play a part in my death

You

Featured, light fizuring definition, as star

You captured my appetite in a jar

Left it to pickle sour

We dissected my heart and ate slivers

Outside, like a fevered tongue

Merrymakers ran and dragged

Confetti and plastic cups of eels

Young girls with birthing stretch marks, shaking double chins

If they had three lifetimes it would still not be enough

To celebrate their unfolding life of cards

Queen of Hearts, she sat watching oragami crowds

Easier to be cloud cover, sensing rain in the air

The quiet of needing to say nothing, emptied of small talk

She didn’t need to ever attend a party again

That was another version of her out there in time

Straining to be a light bulb

Her long dangling line

Fishing for fragments of who she had been

How did a wizz, bang, bang, pop, crack, fizzle girl

Turn into a wig combing mannequin?

From dancing drizzled with pink champagne, the uppers in her blood churning red

To planting rows of onions and dragonflies, obscured by garden net

Oh she would

Knit herself a ship

Sailing on and on

Paint herself a sea

Rounding over water with butter knife

A transfer from disco ball, to stay and burrow in

Flying overhead, a stray kite, looping the void

Things of nonsense and flight, once she was weightless, then heavy with seed

When it spilt like a tearing river, a part of her she no longer needed

Tore away, a feeble arc of motion, the arrythmia of nameless distress

Catching the air, lifting, cavorting above caucophany

Trying out her wings

Lust

3Tish-SnookyHe made up his mind quick as

crumpling a wet tissue with his release dripping

damn you can wipe and wipe

the stain remains

garish on her clean dark sheets

he puts his weight on the damp spot

later she will lift her eyes upwards, maybe a wry smile too

if he’s made her see stars

which depends on the drugs they consume

much as he denies it

sober sex doesn’t move him

to eat pussy for an hour

his body reminds him he is getting old

the crook in his neck

oral isn’t kind on ageing cartilage

but she’s more obliging

purrs like a cat in his deaf left ear enough that he can

almost hear

like a shell echoing the sound of the sea

her gasps make him shoot his wad into the sheets

and then they’re wet again and he’s lying on the damp spot

uncomfortable and trying to deflect

when it’s obvious

morning light reveals the day after

his crags and sagging scrotum

her torn panties and jiggly thighs

the white smears on aubergine sheets

like lines on a chalk board run through with finger tips

revolting in regret how soon we cool and shed

the urge for momentary perversion

a turn of passion clips away reality

sealing it briefly in scrapbook

the time when all people become blind fondlers

begging for favors like love struck teens

losing their composure

in the face of lust