The Best Position in Which to Drown

When the ground shed its paving and rose, hump-backed out of the atlantic and we stepped into clean air and we took it down till we shed the paving crusted around our lungs, I skim-read horizons for a sunrise we first met three months earlier. I leave my phone in the house, dying next to a bust of Charlie Chaplin…

Untitled

Sometimes     the gospel choir          in my head               is a land snail                    tucked neatly in                         its ammonite house.                              Sometimes                                   it’s a lightning                                        storm                                             bursting from                                                  my left amygdala.   There is a look     in your eyes          like wrought iron               when you turn                    my fingers                         into bedposts.                              Sometimes                                   prayer                                        is a smile                                             pantomiming                                                  as fear.   I sleep     differently now,          peel myself…

Falling

You with your smell of yeast, of self-raising flour, of new baby scalp, of four-day pyjamas, of fingernail gunge, of spermy exhales, of my guileless cunt, of red wire chin forest, of splinters, of gum disease, of nothing strange now, of mountain lion kisses, of papa bear, of shitty finger, of crack hair, of clean sweat, of whiskey and raisins,…

Oscar’s song

Come on baby. You should be here by now but you are lazy. Beatific. Bathing in a second skin hand-knitted by your mother’s blastocyst. Your invisible smile reigns over this one-eyed world in which you are king but come on baby. I know you don’t want to relinquish your VIP seat. I know you have everything you need right here.…

Milk

I miss you like a milk tooth. Days I held you in my mouth, curled my speech, and therefore thoughts, around your ridges, bit down on you, tasting life through your buds. One day you rattled: a faint kick in the mechanics, something loose in the bone, the roots strung out and I couldn’t help pressing my tongue to those…

NaPoWriMo 2016

If you’re not familiar with NaPoWriMo, it’s National Poetry Writing Month and the idea is to write a poem every day during April. Most years I think about doing this and then don’t This year it just kind of happened, the way poems sometimes happen to you. I’m posting them here.