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.