Cutting down the fennel
I reveal them at their pinnacle,
breeding, always breeding,
taking their time.
Six hours winding
a slow gavotte to reach this little death,
like glaciers cavorting, nipping
each other's eye buds, sharing slick.
I should brand them,
daub pink nail-polish on them and fling them
beyond the fence, see how long before
they come sliming back,
pale undershells canted, pulpous bodies
in desire's garrotte.
When they mount,
undulate frills strain to ridges,
they blacken mantle to foot,
shoot in a pick of bone, snap back
like a throat, like
they like it.
Not in my back garden.
I hack their shelter to the knotted, oozing root.
Kirsten Luckins is a poet, performer and spoken word theatre-maker based on the north-east coast. She has been a finalist in the BBC Poetry Slam, has toured two solo shows, and her first collection (The Trouble With Compassion) was published by Burning Eye Books in 2016. Her current collection is the willfully whimsical Utterly Otterly!, which she also illustrated. She blogs at www.kirstenluckins.wordpress.com
Post a Comment