"Mother rubs my fingers, curling
towards uneasy sleep. Then she starts spinning
her cautionary yarn. Madder-blue and sticky, she warns me
not to talk as the strands batten purplish and hot.
Saturated gauze. Viscous clots. Thorns on the bedspread
flicking open like knivey licks. Prickly hives.
I can't hide. She kneads my wrist;
shifts my pulse into transfixed rhythm."
towards uneasy sleep. Then she starts spinning
her cautionary yarn. Madder-blue and sticky, she warns me
not to talk as the strands batten purplish and hot.
Saturated gauze. Viscous clots. Thorns on the bedspread
flicking open like knivey licks. Prickly hives.
I can't hide. She kneads my wrist;
shifts my pulse into transfixed rhythm."
from my poem, "She Warns Me", within the new GIALLO issue of Sein und Werden
(This issue feels like it's backtracking into a Halloween past, as it includes four older poems by me, along with lots of other darkness too.)
partake of The Viscera HERE - http://www.kissthewitch.co.uk/seinundwerden/autumn16/contents.html
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