rain brings the angler fish
east winds rattle panes
brittled by brackish salts typhoon rage-mists at youth's passing. i gnaw on my cache of traumas lick like heat swallows, skin chanting to myself, this is this is this is this is the outside battering in. The Fiddlehead No. 285 - Autumn 2020
|
Grotto
Pain of release,
is worth a thousand haters mothballs, humidity hang in heat fill; broken generator. Whizz-whirr of insects, at worst tilted by staccato pops. We scratch surface until wounds burst, her touch is cold against my socks. Sap weeps from tall serrated sheaths aromatherapy, in disguise; our hands, stained red with grease sticky with the tar of their lies. Blink and the Bay recedes molten ice, choppy green; holds enough plastic to gut a fish, weaned on a diet spoilt milk, benzene. Winner: Vallum Award for Poetry 2019
Presented by Vallum Contemporary Poetry. |
Copyright © 2021 Ellen Chang-Richardson. All Rights Reserved.