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You
like a dog or a diva you
do not like to be ignored
(my man princess, little
in my heels, my bra
around your neck
and my hairbands
round your hands;
your eyes glee with seeing
life from the inside
me
twice your size the size
of a world;)
and this the world is yours and my
eyes by you turned satellite
Tamara Fulcher
Mantid Chewing Greenbottle
How She Knew That She Existed;
How He Knew That He Had End:
A Scene Depicted in Primitive Media.
(the frame, the conceit,
the thrumming of fingers
on the hide of a drum)
she marks her feet still,
raises her slender arms
in thanks –
beautiful moment of pause –
and so is she into him:
her mouth into its work
unspeaking;
her mute rhythm
the work of deconstruction
beginning in the soft red place
behind his eyes
(if he cries
his tears have no route to exit,
it now being severed;
if he screams
his mouth does not move,
it now being taken;
if – and anyway
his nature is to be unheard)
Tamara Fulcher
Noon Rest From Work
you reap
ripe fields
blade’s beard
splits brittle wheat
black pocks mark
crows that sow
billhooks in lapis
noon peels oil
from canvas
she stretches
folds her head on
cambric arms
walk to her
through bristling
umber brushstrokes
slip your feet
from damp boots
lay sickle on
sickle clasped
close as a swift’s
curved wings
Kate Horsley
Metamorphosis
I had the same dream again. And
Again in my dreams it was flowing
Like scary scenes once whispered
And faded out in Bulgakov’s novelette.
Lying over that cold polygonal steel table
Strapped and my soul was anaesthetized.
I could still see, -move my fingers yet
Nomore the blood was flowing inside my
Heart. They removed my nous and balls
But placed a dead dog’s instead before
Stabbing the sky. They made a tree from me.
A broken spoiled birch. Grey and confused.
With a mutant heart, canine instinct and
At last a morphed lowlife, truly made of wood.
Sutirtha Roy
Mocking the Burning Giraffe
Last time I belled the cat three months back. Perhaps since then I completely lost my vision. Really can’t see anymore. My mug is still pouring and I really tried way too hard.Hence my neighbour again objected thrice on the eve of Easter Sunday for crying so loud. He weighed nearly 322 pounds [recently on diet], and has now moved to the Far East for living. I heard that he bought a brand new house, which has been twice painted in white – as far I guess. He never loved my beautiful young ox or old chubby wife. Unfortunately his fiancée was a police. The lady cop tolerated me weeing in the shrine for so long but just exploded when I had started praying at last. She had never been a doubting Thomas. I could barely hide my swarthy butt from then on. The sceptical high priest strongly believed that I am a Jim crow [or a gay] so must be cremated before my death. The mob were already convinced about it long ago. They were actually cynical about my gender and odd orange bloomers [truly I didn’t wear any] as it was really smelling a like rat. Finally the truce was made. They all promised to send me to the loony bin if I try to cough even once more. No surprise that Rudolph [our pet reindeer] now has a blue nose, who modestly told me: I am sure Saint Nicholas never existed – No one saw him ever. Poor fellow! I trusted him. Then we crashed the coloured eggs. He wished a toast for good health. I honestly loved the deep-dish pie although I badly needed a glass of water. And most interestingly the cobbler – next door, asked me to change my laptop right now or if I could flog my iphone instead. But he didn’t notice my shoes. Those were antique indeed. I swear a genuine Salvatore Ferragamo. None of them could spell!
Sutirtha Roy
A STARTER KIT FOR ECCENTRICS
A one week course
Day One:
Find the tide
and swim against it,
vigorously;
Do not look over your shoulder
Day Two:
Find a received opinion
and refuse to agree,
forcefully;
do not be embarassed
Day Three:
Find a dress code
and on no account wear it,
snappily;
do not look in shop windows
Day Four:
Find what is held to be common sense
and question its truth,
purposefully;
do not be swayed
Day Five:
Find the field that others cultivate
and plough your own furrow,
precisely;
do not deviate
Day Six:
Find the grey areas
and colour them in,
brightly;
do not leave spaces
Day Seven:
Find out the latest jokes
and refuse to find them funny,
stonily;
do not forget to have the last laugh
Nigel Hutchinson