Coy slicks her. Both hands
cup her sacred as water,
reed over her,
rolling through warm currents
in the burn of fluorescents
in the still of morning
her eyes reach out, she slips hot
breath over her lover’s tongue
curls a fan of hand behind a kiss
scaled neck. Sky falls through the window,
on the nightstand, dress lashes,
flutter brilliant orange.
First published in Red River Review, 2011.
I’ve seen the snow
his white hand
over the river’s mouth
two fists beating
that drum rhythm
– scattered teeth fragments.
I’ve seen the river’s tongue
beneath the frost, I long
to lie under it, curl up
to his salvia gland’s pillow
and watch the muscle move over me.
First published in Forge, issue 5.1 , 2011.
Lining up the wood on the block
he’s a decent size, matured, a pale shade.
The axe swings her high arc, wedges silver
into the centre. He rocks open, his ant-black
heart dribbles pincers onto her feet, shock
shakes them off. Later in the fuel stove
his wine sap heats and hisses his defeat.
First published in Voiceworks, no. 83, Summer 2010-2011.