written for The Sunday Muse #243

knock knock 

she's at the door 
with her come wings 
like apprehension 
cabbage moths
in alabaster flood

in lieu of hello
she hands me a paper

“Bandaged thought. 
Isthmus birthing butterflies. 
Wings plough rainbows. 
Blood is hammer. 
Evolve the grey.” 

my heart 
like a frightened bird 
my bone and skin prison 
aviary of woman 

knock knock 

I’m caught 
fallen leaves and 
crimson dust 

a fishhook of clouds 

14 thoughts on “messenger

    1. Yes. This poem sort of arose out of a conversation I had with a friend in which we imagined a poem written as a telegram. Originally the part in inverted commas was written with the word “stop” instead of full stops. But as the poem grew, that device felt too artificial and not relevant. But I think of how ominous telegrams would’ve been in war time and I think that’s where the mood came from.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s