Writing for survival.
Her Habitat A clean, cream carpet, Glittering glass: a squeaky carapace. Grand, old, oak bookcase, Slide in spines. Covers carefully confined - Embraced between the dust-free shelves. Enshrined. Polish the coffee table to a gloss, With wax from bees – cold cream for deceased trees. The toilet protrudes from plaster like a Porcelain-capped tooth. My pearly bath, each nacreous tile agleam, And shower pod: a pristine, plastic dream. Such taps! Platinum sculptures, Which rupture The shining, sacred sepulchre of sink: My marvellously marbled monolith. I cup my hands to drink. Reflections: the twinkling of insect eyes, Tiny twitches – like the dying limbs of flies. But round the wooden ridge of window frame, Seen through the lens of glazed, pellucid pane, There cluster lace-edged knots of spider seeds – Skeins stuffed with squirling, squirming, thronging beads: Silk sacks of legs and throbbing abdomens. A vision: vestal virgin-bottled bleach, Between the sponges, cans and sprays I reach. Candyfloss cocoons, festering festoons, Slashed at by searing, slicing, squirting spears. The atomised elixir saturates. Finally, furious and nauseous, A big one breaks out, She, sopping, writhing, stabbing at the air, Flails fitfully and spirals from her lair. Fast fading – and her babies all at rest – The chill, grave thought: How fragile is a nest?
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Stars in The Sock Drawer (04/04/2013)
How To Be Better (02/04/2013)
The Cupboard of Death (01/04/2013)
Someone Else's Sorrow (25/08/2012)
Greetings Card Verses (23/08/2012)
Do You Remember When... (22/08/2012)
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