roux
louise carter
Two sparking fireflies
braiding their way moonward;
fireworks of milk. Girl sinew,
jigsaw cohesion, cartilage
on cartilage, base grinding.
Salt rocks, litmus colourings
of metal fire, the juicy-juicy.
Pulp jiggle, digestive fibres;
kindergarten alkali.
To land wholly in a giant’s palm;
reverberating currents of satisfaction.
The gum-smacking masticating glibness
of it – idiot euphoria – delirious
abasement, toffee buckets
of intravenous sugar,
cracking the eggshell
of imaginary to real.
This is the endless lesson,
thighs astride a brass seahorse;
saxophonic Vaseline.
Just as consciousness returns
to the fainter, your mild-mannered
nature bubbles back into view –
bullets for safekeeping.
To look into the prophet’s face:
That’s really lovely
/You’re so cuddly
Laying you down gently
to sleep – coming as far as I can.
I’ll meet you back here at the shadow lip,
the void in which I dangle my feet
while scanning the nightscape for crows.
more by louise carter