Lizard
An emblem
I am
A foothold for Venus
When she’s crawling out
From under the rock
Unsure of what she’ll find
And when it’s safe I sun like a lizard
Achingly female
And striving
To melt into the layers of granite
To soften into a presence worth watching
Embers
In the embers of my mind you stay. Sitting quietly in that old armchair.
I still find it charming, despite being long past its prime. The chair, I mean.
I wake up and you rustle. I’m soft and unguarded, one foot still in a dream.
I wash you off as I wash my face.
I look for work and the city hums, people move left and right.
There’s a gap in my breath, a moment of quiet. And in that valley a mountain aches.
I take the bus, say hello to the driver who barely looks up. I climb to the top.
Your tilted face looks up at me from the bench, still waiting at the stop.
In the embers of my mind you live. On the carpet, with one knee bent. Blowing on the fire.
Pulsating. Radiating. Reminding.
I’m on my balcony, six floors up. New beginnings come with a view. We don’t make fires here.
We make big ideas. More people. Tall buildings.
I light a match and you flicker in the spark.
I bathe and see you in the faucet’s reflection.​
In the embers of my mind you wait. Sitting quietly in that old armchair. A watchful eye on the hearth.
I open the door and you look up.
Vain
If I wasn’t so vain
I’d smoke all the time
I’d stay up to sin
And bathe in red wine
I’d follow the light
And stare at the sun
I’d hug every speaker
And simmer in fun
I Live There
We’re all grown up now
Toddlers asleep upstairs
Low lights glow in the midnight kitchen
Our gowns trail over warm stone
Silk full of smoke
She goes
Dancing with you all was my favourite part
But it made me a little sad
I live there
I stop.
You live there?​
I live there.
In the whirling periwinkle debauchery
Arm in arm, with skylight fading
We shout and stomp
Love proclaimed
You beautiful bastard, he screams
You little shit, she laughs
We shriek and howl, tackle the proudest to the ground
Worse than animals
I live there
You live there too?
The rules were simple:
Chaos was divine,
and I was alive in the brawl—
forever stitched into that time
They did not tell Michelangelo
that his angels could be found
staring at the celestial swirls
of an '80s plaster ceiling
I live there
You live there too?
The latest banger, the battered light hanger
The only thing watching over us – other than each other
(and we were never brilliant at that)
but we held misgivings like feathers
Boys, boys,
Give the people what they want!
A spectacle like no other on a red shag rug
for all those smoking al fresco
The adoring fans from beyond the glass
shout bravo, bravo
‘Watching tv’ we called it
What’s on tonight?
If it’s not Orphan Christmas
it’s that prince of darkness
Or the gasping primadonna
Most likely our brazen bard
Will stride in like a flamingo
Camp incarnate
Will he remember
the duel he won?
The soft and cloying dawn reminds
The head aches— brain no more, no mind
Trouble is afoot
Will our young heroes rise?
But of course, we'll see you next ti—
​
The teapot clacks on the counter.
​
The midnight kitchen still.
‘Wait, I live there.
You live there too?’
​
She says
'Yes— and so does he.
I never wanted it to change.
And then it all changed’
'There was so much love’
‘There was so much love’
‘What do we do now?’
​​
It's so hard,
we were so lucky
I Have Been to Positano
I have been to Positano
I have walked those avenues
I have dined with Mary Magdeline
She likes a proper chew
I have sung amongst the angels
I have bled upon the stones
The priest said, 'best get praying –
you hold lovers like they're tomes'
I have been to Varanasi
Debated god with elephants
I escaped reincarnation
Was a little on the fence
I have sipped the magic potion
That was labelled ‘do not drink’
I meditated for thirty years
It sure gave me time to think
I have clothed myself in silks
And knocked on heaven’s gate
They took one look at me and said
‘Sweetie, you're a little late’
I have been to Positano
Nearly swallowed by a squid
Dear darling cherish me
I escaped by an eyelid
I have floated on the moors
I have bleated with the lambs
I found gold amongst the moss
Scooped it up into my hands
I have been to Positano
I ate every silver spoon
A feast, a fife, a filthy long life
A kingdom for the loons
Two Girls
Two girls sit and look at their legs
Lake drops bead and pour sometimes
Between fine hairs and goosebumps
Sun rays hidden above a cloud
They know it won’t be long
Until it warms them again
Two girls share, and get lost
Hours late getting back home
Her mother's pacing, and her father's pause
No phone or direction – diverged in fury
Spilling into strange parts of town
Following a day’s rambling in a golden forrest
Two girls earlier that day
Splashed in the river
Battled foe and sought fae
Skinned their knees and hopped fences
Laid in the grass and noticed tiny beings
Making their way
Two women laugh and reminisce
A London let their new kingdom
A rendezvous between worlds
Of industry and mountain heather
One builds the future, one guards the past
They are different now, they have always been different
But now it is set in amber
Canyon
‘Pathetic’ he said
And her world cracked
A deep canyon opened
Between toes facing toes
She pushed him in
A shiny spinning coin
He fell and fell and fell
Casting yelps to the deep dark well
Joining dusty tributes
The pit of snakes
Facades kissed goodbye
And left hissing
He said ‘you're insane’
And it made her feel insane
Made her laugh so loud her granddaughters could hear
She cackled until she was hoarse
‘You're insecure’ he said
And it fractured the pretty glass
Shone over her features
The cloak slipped to the ground as she stared
He called her 'a wounded thing'
And it made her want to wound him
​A mirage in the desert
Smudged out
He said 'I lost respect for you'
And we all agree
If it can come and go like the tide
Then we will wait for it to rise and drown him in the depths
Aha! Here comes the banner girl
Lifting the corners of his mouth
Say nothing but sweet nothings
Marvel, moan and murmur
What a man, what a man, what a man
Put him in the canyon
Where the cowgirls can look down
Whistle,
And weep safely
Less
It feels like the world is getting smaller
A little planet bouncing on a string
There’s less time spent in the eyes of strangers
Less gossip in the ears of our neighbours
But you are here
And I am here
And who knows
It might make all the difference
The Beast
Your sweat drips
It feeds the beast
Your muscle spasms
It feeds the beast
We find ourselves in the belly
Of a churning, growling creature
Blood of oil, industrial soul
There is nowhere to go but through
The cogs of my mind slow
I dart
At once with the terrain
Gathering bruises, skids, near misses –
With lapels igniting
A corporate symphony
​
There's euphoria
Under the bridge
I fly and see blurred figures
Lost souls at Gi Gi’s
Her red mouth open
Loosens their collars
One pint at a time
​
I cannot stop, I fly
​
And see fractured faces reflecting
This is a unity of sorts
This is a love of some kind
At home in its era
And here we are together
A murmuration of profiteers
Blue and black schools of fish
I catch your eye
Lightning fast in the vein gone past
In a heart of flickering digits
An insatiable engine
The one we all feed
Our eyes mirroring
The neon glow
Of a god larger than ourselves
Stallion
Ride your stallion
Through that tunnel of pain
That dares to encase you
And darken your lane
The world, a little pearl
Slipped from your fingers
And smashed on the floor
Fractured in a primrose kitchen
​
Toile de jouy faces aghast​
What will the neighbours say?
That muddy ground rose up
Eyes darting, you hear: ‘Dig!'
Suddenly animal, smelling hounds and hooves
Long slender claws push into the mud
​​
There’s dirt on your face on your dress and on him
What will the neighbours say?
You dig deep for love in marrow
Hot sweat beading yellow gingham
You dig and feel that rusting key
Slip the grasp and then run fast
​
It’s miles away now
What will the neighbours say?
And at the very bottom
In a well of cool, dark, earthy stillness
You look about
You feel around
You are alone
Except
A long shape slowly forms in the haze, and languidly looks aloft
A soft rumble from its chest spirals out, and snakes around you
​
You lay down beside her
Push your hands into soft fur too hard
Pulses synching, softy slowing
‘Is it enough?’ You ask
“It is enough’ She says​
There’s a Woman crying on the tube
There’s a woman crying on the tube and,
Isn’t it beautiful
That in the end
Life has a way of winning
A woman crying on the tube
In the throes of a tempest
Which lessen and then overwhelm
Within her she is reaching for a rock
Anything to steady her
But she slips
As the water quelled rises once more
There is no saving her
In front of everyone sorrow pours
Onto the floor and down the compartment
People lift their shoes onto the seats
Their leather briefcases from the floor
The woman wins a little too
Because she doesn’t care that much
Wiping snot under the shade of
A baseball cap tilted 45 degrees
Tears on her cheeks she concentrates
On the question:
What is the acceptable amount of pain?
And then up comes the wave and she's gasping
Under the fluorescent lights
Before twenty captive strangers
They have paid their fare
They may recoil or choose to look
And not one will reach out
But every single one is desperate to know
What is that woman crying about
The July Issue
A portal opens
And warm rain flirts
Dampening my leg
Fairly expected, but not welcome
Sitting in the windowsill
At the threshold
Of what’s mine
And what’s Glasgow’s
This is where we meet
In the bedroom
One story up
Window wide
I need, I need, I need something
A little eiffel tower of the end of my cigarette
Considers leaving me behind
And then does
Breaking off
Scattering like lemmings
Unseasonal snow flakes
My right trouser leg speaks up
‘That misty muse is crossing my boundaries’
Egged on by the wind
Into the boudoir
I can see it happening
But it’s worth it for the sense of freedom
I don’t like smoking that much
But sometimes
I need to feel a little sick
My body is my home
My body is my home
It’s where I keep my gold
Display my silks
So that I never want to leave
I shake out the rugs
Sewn with shimmering thread
And tend to the fire
With oak and coal
​
My body is my home
If I am awake
Then I am in
Why would I be anywhere else?
I am here
You’ll find me in orbit
Lounging on the counter
Singeing toast
And drinking bitter coffee
​
My body is my home
One hundred years heavy
Blown from palm, overnight
Out of devastating convenience
And swallowed by darker days
I planted my soul in its dirt
And that place became me
Grew a mossy roof overhead
What remains is a caravan
​
My body is my home
Sometimes hares sprint across the garden
And neighbours see them and say
How odd, I never have hares in my garden
There’s something strange about that place
​
My body is my home
My forehead is the mantle
My hair the flaxen curtains
My heart the hearth
My chatter the armchair
My arms are the path
My eyes the windows
My hips are the walls
My lips are the door
This is what we become
When we belong nowhere
And everywhere
One Second
Faux Americana dive bar
Neon lights, flickering footage
There’s four of us close, voices raised
But I can barely hear
A question rises
Slips from the old bully
And hangs there
'Who could I be?'
​
The younger smirks and bares his teeth
Looks straight into that face
Often cloaked in lager and smirk
A facade cemented ages ago
And scoffs ‘You?
You couldn’t be the host
You couldn’t be the guard
You can clean the toilets’
My mouth opens
A hand springs forward
And grabs the boy’s chin
Eyes wide and white hot
An arm wraps round my waist
And pulls me
Back to the man
Away from the boy
​
In one second
I see
A love that won’t blossom
A loyalty that won’t be repaid
A gap that won’t show again
Intimacy without a future
A union that lasts
One second
But is there
Exists
Exposed
What is felt, wanted, known
By both
I see you
That’s what makes me uneasy
I believe in you
It’s embarrassing
I’ve got your back
I can take care of myself
I’m on your side
I know, come here
When
When did you realise
You could stir them
Into a shining silver pool,
And they’d beg to be pulled under
​
When did you come to know
That the magnificence of your own pleasure
Was the greatest bribe there ever was
For someone to give you more
​
Was it when you saw them linger near your roots
Gathering the swollen fruit you’d let fall
They held it aloft, beaming, offering it to you
As if it were their own creation
​
In truth, you would never have found it yourself -
It lay too far, forgotten, out of sight
But glowing at the chance to share,
You take it from their open hands
​
Or perhaps in the unwavering gaze,
When they look into your eyes
And see themselves reflected there
Beautiful and whole, lounging into your pupils
​
Maybe it is the lithe nymph
Sitting knowingly along the river’s edge,
Her legs submerged in cool water,
While the serpent drifts closer
​
When did you first notice the power of laughter
The tilt of your head, your eyes closing
Lost for a moment to darkness
While another’s eyes are lost too, helplessly watching
​
When did you first create love?
​
When the dryads conspired together, divvying secrets beneath the oaks​
When the sun god touched the moon and she slivered out of her silvery coat​
When Icarus loved the sun so desperately, he perished expecting her to hold him
​
In this realm our daggers melt
Our swords bend like tall grass in the breeze
Time is a useless and tiresome concept
Only for those with somewhere to be​
JC Pennys
Mom goes
I have a poor memory
Sometimes I’m in tears
One day I turned around
And suddenly I couldn’t remember anything
Of when you were a young sprite
But do you remember
Hiding in the round rails of clothing?
The difference is
My memory is very vivid
When I couldn’t see you
Exerpt
There’s a valley where every face is known by the others.
​
It’s in the mountains, protected land. It’s made up of two villages linked by a narrow road that steepens the further you walk. The pub holds court at the bottom. At the very top, the end of the road, there is a mountain which you lived at the foot of for several years. The postman greets you by name and you say hello back, despite knowing that when you’re out he lingers in your house for fifteen to twenty minutes, as spied by the upstairs neighbour— reason still unknown.
A river runs parallel to the track, spilling into a series of waterfalls where the locals swim naked. The water comes down from the mountain, carving out pools, each with its own lore.
​
One is called the kettle. One is called the horizon. And one is named after you.
​​
Upon visiting for the first time, the valley reveals fantasies long buried under layers of contemporary cynicism. For generations, people have gathered up the shining fragments. Miners carved a life for their families by extracting slate. The architect painted his vision onto the bones of the valley itself, coaxing life from iron and rock. The gates pull us into the heart of the mountains. The turquoise gutters try and fail to steer the water away from our homes, no match for the heavy rain. We do our best to battle the damp with coal and wood, attempting to warm stone walls built centuries ago. The round windows become portals for each who has looked out, and lit by fire in the grey evening, glow like orbs, guiding passersby on their way home.
He Takes Me Into the Hills
He takes me into the hills
and my soul is encircled
I’m home
for the very first time
Knowing rises from the ground
and beams from the windows
I’ve been away
my whole life,
and here I am
inside
The tree grows
out of the roof of this house
the royal seat
rooted into century stones
and blooms above, enormous in its majesty
He opens the postbox
and there’s something inside
a bank statement
seven years old
addressed to his brother
We walk, and walk
through tunnelled trees
green-gold shimmer
each step more married under their arches
The white guardians watch and shuffle
Earlier that morning
I’d cut myself shaving
and after a day's traversing
it stung
​
I tell him about it
and he picks me up
and carries me
follows the river
and we find our night’s haven
Swimming in almost nothing
I ask, 'Does it count?'
'No', he smiles
and I go back in
It's his world, so I listen​
​
Back on the island
he bakes for me all week
uses fifty-two eggs
one for every week in the first year
that he loves me
I never thought I could leave that place.
It grew my bones
and lit my eyes
gave me words to say
in a tale nearly gone extinct
​
It was impossible not to fall in love
with him and her
devoted to both
lovers for many years
My first true love
had green eyes
fed me as she consumed me
I worshipped her
like a shining star in the mud
And him,
I can never admit
how much I truly felt or
how much he truly gave
even thinking about it
would destroy me
But she comes with me
in all honesty
has never left me
even though I have left her
for now
The Morning After the Wedding
Amongst camper chairs in the heavenly
light
Under the shade of Oregon
cedars
We’re all float in shimmering shades of a
migraine
There’s advil on the table, champagne flutes adorn the
ground
Aunt Mary is being so
bawdy
The bride is bright
red
‘Better check those sheets!’ she laughed and
said
As we laugh and each show a night’s shiny
moment
Aunt Anita arrives and sits
down
A little wave ripples from her
ankles
Keen eyes quietly scanning each of us
‘There was an incident’ she says
loudly
‘Last night at 3am our neighbour
awoke
She heard shrieking, and when she ran outside she
saw
Three people in her field trying to mount her horses
We gasp and grin, an absolute scandal
announced
Was it Luke? one cries
It must’ve been Dawn says another
She can ride bareback
​
The neighbour says somebody rode her palamino into the
fence
And is going to call the
Police​
​
‘She says that if she ever sees anyone on her land again,
she will shoot them’
​
Our theories evaporate like dew on a black tar
road
Anita is hunting, she is not
playing
There is trouble, big trouble,
But all we can do is clench our jaws and look down
To keep from
smiling