deepundergroundpoetry.com
4.30am ~ room view of a motel car park
the silent,
nocturnal questions coil.
a super8 film
plays on the chintz,
it provokes, cushions, then caresses;
like damaged lantern
puppets,
like rhinocera restored in felt.
So turn to nuzzle the quilt, and gnaw
in pearl-light,
in starfish glare,
see
the moon blinks on and off, I swear.
stand to - walk to the window
as a fly
desiring escape from a dollarstore tumbler.
the fluorescent and neon
buzz of it all.
fingering
used floss,
sellotape holding up the wallpaper,
a flyer on local attractions.
there are so many voices-opinions-caring hands
sending good vibes,
improbable ideas for a heavenly hereafter,
but herein
this night the passport is burnt, nameless,
a dory
trawling a black river
candled
with glistening, crawfish eyes.
So far down to dive,
when the hook hits the back of the throat,
snagged by the rising sun
to reel him in.
Published 6th May 2025
| Edited 7th May 2025
Author's Note
expanded/edited Napo entry. image mine.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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