in solitary

i look
into
the butcher’s shop
where my
frosty heart
hangs
on
its own
cold hook

solitary

stabbed

waiting
to be
sliced

burn, baby, burn

busted thoughts
and scathing pen
daring me
to write
again

I fight with
every syllable
punching every
pit of
bull

my musty brain
begins to crank
pulverising
banter’s
bank

grinding words
to cobblestones
that skip the path
to future
poems

that’s all I’m of
these words internal
scorching me
until
inferno

burn, baby, burn

duckie

smooth my feathers

gently

stroke me with care

and kindness

remind me

you are here

because of me

not

despite me

 

my silky bill

is happy to nibble

your proffered treats

I accept them

delicately

and gratefully

 

perhaps we shall waddle together

along the torrent’s bank

feather by feather

rumbling

sympathetic noises

in support of each other’s

difficulties and losses

 

we might

quack out loud

in an excited succession

of jokes and

flirting

 

and perhaps we will be

lucky enough

to nestle together

and make a sanctuary

on the dry sticks

life provides

 

 

Passing Port

His surly border face
hurls gruff questions at
my blanched, weary frame
and scours my documents with
needle eyes

why?
who?
where?
what for?

my destinations are too random
for his liking
my plans, too un-planned

he wants an iron-clad timetable
barcode tattoo
that can be traced
and verified

thus surveillance
can contain me
at any inconvenient moment

his grimace hesitates

antennae flailing

unable to grasp a fault in me
he grumblingly stamps
and returns my passport

and I am allowed hustle
from this queue
to
the next fault line.

ambition

The curtains fluttered against her legs
she stood solidly
her dead eyes
locked onto the ant farm
below
 
So many attempts to fly
flirting with glimpses of
success
 
She’d held on to her dreams
for so very long
despite betrayal
 
And now
with one step
her dreams would hold her
 
completely

Hungry Ghosts on Huaihai Lu

addled
busy buyers
rattle packages
and step in time
through
glass doors
drop questions
of taste
in tissue
and feed the beast
that
torments them

Published in MaLa Literary Journal 2013
http://www.mala-literary-journal.com/

framed

I look through you
you open the world to me
my umbilical cord to the universe of clarity
 
basically
you frame my eyes
but to onlookers
you frame my appearance
and my abilities
 
intelligent
reserved
aesthetic
definitely not athletic!
 
my!
 
how small frames
thus worn
open all possibilities to me
yet close them
to those who see

(Dedicated to anyone who wears glasses)

see me

How do I escape
from
herstory’s face?
 
I grow my own
but
 
shall I compare thee…….
 
that blighting
phrase
connives to
make
 
me
 
invisible
 
I grow my own
arms
and legs
and the jelly
between my ears
is not
from an instant mix
 

yet
I
am branded
by 21st century
Limited
 
media indoctrination
and
peripheral vision
is not
knowing

Tight

i am a limpet
in love
 
if i choose you
and
you, foolishly, choose me
i will leap
from the ground
and
wrap my arms
and legs
about you
tightly
tangled
in your hydroponic focus
 
giddy
and scalp bleeding
i promise
to grow a
lethal barnacle
around our love
cutting any
who
try to
crowbar
us
apart

with warmth
and moisture
between us
we grow our own
food
and live
oblivious
 
to
genocide
toxic contamination
and global warming
in our
pearly shell house
 

Grace

the age of snow
has come to you
contradicting
your olive, wrinkled
brow

shocked
at first
to see your wintery
translation

I gradually
accepted
nature’s exhibitionism
trumpeting you
as

one lucky enough

to revel in
time’s
descriptive patterns