One Hundred and Sixteen.

26/4/14

Izzy circle

izzy

my hair’s falling out in tiny fistfuls
little clumps that don’t seem to come from anywhere
is this it? am I finally, truly, my father’s daughter?
am I becoming the son he never had,
inheriting the male pattern baldness gene,
the wide arms, long limbs, heavy eyes
the lines crackling around a breaking smile?
the tulips are falling to pieces too.

*

Sarah circle

sarah

They never licked – they roared
Belched into the inky sky
A pyre, a beacon, a sight to behold
And big-eyed families came side-stepping into the street
The red gold light fanning their cheeks
We never do go to mass
But we’ve ravenous for a cataclysm

*

Advertisements

Have words to throw back at us?

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

WordPress.com Logo

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

Google+ photo

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

Twitter picture

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

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s