Gaynor Kane
flame embracing wick
Moonflowers have not yet demanded
our eradication,
we ate memory before
it ate us, breaking each day
out of the mold
it was poured into,
drawing forth thorn from tongue,
inscribing renunciation
in phosphorescence.
A proper hand requires wrist,
elbow, shoulder, teeth to bite off thought
as it escapes throat, the crying out
of opening flesh, an unsealed letter
scribbled in bitter incandescence
without shade or cloud.
We feel the tapping hatchet
splitting billets down to kindling
stacked for flame sparked in palm,
the self split ever finer burns
clean away, ash is the confection
plated with coffee, we become less
that we may become more,
this form shapeless as night,
hollow as sky and beyond,
a thicket of light without burning
spilling out from habitation.
Ear cocked
for the whisper of whetstone
behind words scattered
on the polished table, its surface
an aggregate of tooth, eye and bone,
standing ever beneath moon,
wind cloaked, there is no door
we may darken, no lamp
lit for our arrival.
Without turning aside, we consumed
the flesh of the song
wiping grease from our hands,
returning from dry land,
wave grinding out despair
once marrow deep, the sea
receives us, indifferent
to the composition of our bodies,
bellies full of singing,
eyes full of the emptiness
no star can fill.
Peach Delphine is a queer poet from Tampa, Florida. Infatuated with what remains of the undeveloped Gulf coast.
Gaynor Kane lives in Belfast, Northern Ireland, where she is a part-time creative, involved in the local arts scene. She writes poetry and is an amateur photographer, and in both is looking to capture moments that might be missed otherwise. Discover more at gaynorkane.com.