The Sharp Knife Shadows
after Sarah St Vincent Welch, Kit Kelen & Chris Mansell
The sharp knife shadows
the patient horrors surface
from the sea of mind, sea of night
on my zoo animal days, I feel
degrees of attractiveness
gibbering incoherent demands
pointing through the ceiling
at the blue things, the blue sky
forgives my language, the shades
the gerunds, particles of meaning
deflected as if by semi-trailer, doom
typhoon, the busted brakes of love
soft forms beneath the counter wait
shotgun, club, machete or stun gun
and if there ever be a metallic song
a metallic you, I guess a metallic me.
© 2016 Rob Schackne
Excellent poem Rob
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