Circumference

When I caught her drawing circles
She sliced off a crescent
And spun me a stare
Before bowling her eyes
Back into the dark alleys of her skull

Sinking into the circumference
Stirring the seas up into a tempest
A whipping
Taking lead over her body

Second hand waving
This was a beckoning
And I became the waves lapping
Curling along the shoreline

Tasting the salt of the seas
As the turn
Seasoned tears
Fluid heaved
From the deepest within
And wheel spinning in the sand

Drawing up a plan
For a grin horizon wide
A murmur tectonic gristle chewed
And the soft squeal
Of champagne flutes fingered
To a high C

Whispering the words
I knew she liked
I slipped into her mouth
Saw for myself
What she was made of

It was dark
Shards of glass between teeth
Breath hot with the recent char of flames

I rode the river down inside her searching
Flicking through the pages of her story

There were warm lights in the window
Leaves a stiff bristle brush across the yard
And a brittle signpost feathered with splinters

There were hot lights in the sky
And rushes in the bushes
When she writhed
I thumbed the page

And there was daylight in the morning
Tearing open the paper coffin
For me to walk out a Caesarian
And finish the book

I watched her swim lengths around the room
Dressing me in a silk shawl of awe
Her body a stream of dewy mist, hazing,
Tornado circling and whirring -
The clarity of corners smudged over
In a candy floss stirring
I was pulled into her current
Whipped up, wrapped around
A spinning plate dizzy
Tossed aside as she erased the exit

Under the table

I crawl underneath
Slaloming feet, quiet, out of reach;
The way I like it
And find myself a seat.

With no one knowing I’m here
I see the for real

The shuffling discomfort of a liar
The ache of a yearning heart in leaning to
The statue of ignorance
The foot point of fancy
The footsie of flirtation
And
The thigh stroke of possession

I have picnicked in the subtext
Watched a story unfold
And burst its clothing
Soak its seat

For truth I am full
Watching the hungry
Clean their plates
From beneath.

The echoes of bird whistle
Are cooing in the morning
Beckoning the rising of eyelids
And tall trees bounce the voices off their barks
In a game of woodland pingpong

This is a song of how the dark slid away
Down the back of the sky
And like a watercolour
The sun blotted canvas

It was a bloodletting
Just like any dream on fire

Harp

Mountains. How I missed you.

With eagle talons splayed
You are streaming.
Sketching spinal fluid rivers,
Strokes of mineral. A gargle

Of falls and pewter rock sombre.
For feet. For miles. Precious stone.
You are focused.

How I missed you
Is a mystery.
I was wolf dark, stick crack and growl.
Leaf cover, low limb shadows. Halt.

Now I hear you. And flicker twig.
Stem growth and brush past.
Opening.

Forest crowning
At your rebirth.

The hands waving over at me, rounding the clock face then reversing, to then fro, swinging more like the pendulum of a grandfather, I too swayed seasick. Buoyant in purgatory. Left to right the slow and steady breaths of a metronome.

The waves turned over their hands at me like a card trick showing the missing. Showing this way - then that. I changed direction to follow suit. Changed my pace, changed my stroke until I dizzied myself, swirled and collapsed to the dewy wet grass of a tangle legged man. A table kicked out.



Looking up, ahead, the sky was clear and seemed to have it all worked out.

We were sucking out the nectar from nettle flowers 

And spitting out the skins 

Back into the army green forest of stings
Guessing not so many bees make it down to the river
Although one made it through her skin 

Once we had climbed out from the willows
Up the hill, nearer to the sun

And I plucked out its segmented gift from her brow
A spike like a small syringe, bulbous sack of poison
Thrown, a dart to the dry ground
The quick pinch leaving a dot of blood, dizziness
And the deep breath of caution along the tongue of the trail.

The tap drip of waiting
Tired reflections
Slap the tiled walls and echo
The handclap comes back
But you sing somewhere else

Somewhere out there
I know you’re singing
Across the sea
Across the sky
Singing one little line for me
I close my eyes
And hang on to the notes
Like the rungs of a ladder
To the stars

It doesn’t even matter

You’re the coin stuck in the slot
The screw turned against thread

So keen to get in
You shove, you ram
But far from fill
Just get in the way

Just clutter
Just cacophony
Enough not to be ignored

You’re the ugly
Thrown back
From the mirror

Zodiac

This is the twelfth floor of a burning building 
I’m sitting on the window ledge 
Watching the stars, wondering

For all the maps we’ve made
Cave paintings on the celestial sphere
Using these constellations for navigation over the years

Guiding star, where are you now?

This is the twelfth floor of a burning building
- I counted
The ram, the bull, the twins, the crab, the lion, 
The maiden, the scales, the scorpion,
The centaur, the goat, the water bearer
And the fish 

The slicing of heavens into twelfths
- Mere fractions of their magnitude
We magnify each particle 
When really, it’s the dark that matters 

This is the twelfth floor of a burning building
And you are the fuel, the heat, the oxygen

This is the twelfth floor of a burning building
And you are the sun

The burning flames 
That keep me alive
That keep me on earth 

That keep me out of reach 

This is the twelfth floor of a burning building
And I’m bringing you down.

___________________________________________

Prompt by: choaticextremes