tongue

the
 girled
    garden

we water lust's gownly lick

frantic
meat death apparatus
                please

tongue
waxed bare with whispers

         here
I want you raw not elaborately
          ^                drunk

(written by Janet Jackson and Coral Carter using the magnetic poetry kit)

(First published in Creatrix)

necessary

Its eyes are orange stones,
staring nowhere and everywhere,
hiding a mystery,
a mind.

Every feather that lines its back,
creates its wings, defines its tail
is black: an ancient
and sacred darkness.

Gripping the rim of the birdbath
it stretches its Nick Cave neck
and caws the old long notes
that mark the morning.

Wanting water, willy-wagtails
in prim little aprons flit,
flutter, chitter,
fly at it.

Balanced, silent, glaring,
daggering its beak at them
only when necessary, it continues
to take its drink.

(First published in Westerly)

just as if nothing

The moon is not yet a cellblock or somewhere to fly to / on a good night it flings its sliver or slice or circular song through the flungout tornup clothes of the clouds / on a good night the moon is not a dusty chemical yellow it is silver through the surviving trees through those leaves that have not yet been fired or gashed or exploded / on a good night the moon is not a looming orange horizon face it is a lick a glimmer a bloom a scrape a scape —
a silver glow like in all the fables a proper silver glow just like in some pretechnology fantasy (horses in quiet service mages in cloaks powerful rings)
just as if nothing
just as if nothing
just as if nothing is wrong with the world that can not be mended with love or magic.