I’ve been poetically dry for a few years. I know why and I won’t bore you with it.
Meanwhile, my photography is blooming, –ish. When I moved to Esch, I started sneaking up on flowers. Luckily for me, given my dreadful stalking skills, flowers are not very good at running away.
I decided to try a poetic response to a flowery photo. A couple came out well, and more than a couple were thoroughly dreadful (judge for yourself). What I really learnt is that I’m pretty sh*te at responsive poetry. Oh jazz, why do you deny me now? [FX, distant muttering, “cos you’ve got an ’eadcold, you idiot”]
another man’s hand
slides up thigh
long summer girl
her delighted grin
besmirches naïve beauty
i’ve got her wrong
i’m the naïf
christ on a pike
I have yet to feel a way to respond to the current lockdown. It’s snowing outside.
Originally published on Self–Quarantine Lines.