Poems

Redeemed

My life is a gift voucher
My god my mall I am
What I have What I am
What I buy
What brands become me
What I have is me
There is no end to my shopping,
I confess to CREDIT
                  everlasting.

 

 

The Curse of the Clam-Girl   

           No members of the Veneridae clam family were harmed in the making of the following metaphor, although they will eventually be worn to sand, unlike the Botticelli blonde who will be conserved long beyond the term of her natural life.

 

The Goddess of Love is a shape-shifter,

voluptuous all tidal swell and light breezes
Youthful Venus, Chicken Venus
all perk and pluck then marinade,

glass-eyed dishevelled glowing
Lettered Venus, Camp Venus
stiletto cleavage and rolling hips,

vacant yearning in a wisp of cloud
Placid Venus, Scaly Venus
amphibious wannabe slinks between the stakes,

She tries to know her place and please all
Venus Faintly Frilled.

 

 

Trappings   

Slowly arching forward,
the caterpillar devours its camouflage

Squeezed by curious fingers it squirms,
the cardboard box smells

          of new school shoes,

The child forgets the box,
eyes a mosquito that whispers threats

Then disappears, the second hand
jars backward in each leap

          forward from tick to tock,

Swallowed in the drone of a Saturday  
mower cutting grass, defining trenches

In tune with the breathless whine
calling winning horses in the final stretch

          recurring.

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