Red Shoes and Life Signs

Red Shoes and Life Signs

The famine started long before this soul could read,

letters giving way to patterns,

stolen colours mixed with second hand scraps

and fashioned as freedom.

A skin that falls away from the bones

to expose the starved sinews, weak from sneaking sensations

in all the wrong places.

Months spent as an empty shell

longing for the sea,

weighed down with sand and plastic wrappers;

cheap treasure, shallow digger.

All that tickles and thunders was buried deeper underground

but detecting only shadow signals

instinct gave way to injured impulse

and lay dying in final defence of the once courageous heart

who lost its rage to a captive life

in a weather-beaten cage and severed from the body,

power seeping out the cells into a muddy puddle on the floor.

But home is where the heart is,

even when it fights back at a crawl

this body will regrow limbs, applying medicines

to clot the blood back into these veins

and the whispers of the wild woman

will echo through each chamber of the heart,

breathing gulps of handmade air

just to howl at the moon.

I Should Have A PHD In Cartography

I Should Have A PHD In Cartography

Half the world away, these hands grasp

at a sense of home that you don’t want to leave

but I don’t want to stay

in love with a revolving door

and my heart has crept back up my sleeve,

bleeding freedom from palms

to the tips of these fingers,

each drip is art on canvas

mapping out the miles my wild will takes

in a different direction to yours.

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

I am the hunted,

scent carries on the wind, tastes

of a three course meal

on the tongue,

we meet at the waterhole

to savour the other use for these lips,

preparing for the chase with palate cleanser

they would think we are but grazing creatures

but this prolonged gaze is sizing up sinews, how they execute

movements with the bones,

as nature meets wild beast

my flesh is the feast

upon which you will later feed,

with sadistic grip of incisors,

pinned neck to Savannah dust,

coats collide in frantic lust

as to evolution’s displeasure

I plead guilty.

Taste of Heaven

Taste of Heaven

Don’t kid yourself,

this barely ruffled my feathers,

my faith belongs

to the way the wind

strokes between my open wings

with nerves left trembling,

but sometimes even wild things

rest for a while

and still the world

has ample love to go around.

All creatures adapt to the changing seasons

and these sharp claws

would be constrained

by an existence in captivity,

a birds eye view is only bestowed

to those blessed to be free

and I was born an untamed spirit

touching everything

and nobody.

Arm’s Length

Arm’s Length

Whilst the wild animal

forages

and scours the landscape

as if by natural instinct,

we humans

order home deliveries

and scour social media

as if natural insecurity

was a sign of intellectual evolution,

just like how

we cause the pollution

that’s killing the planet

yet claim to love it;

but most of us

looking at a pretty flower

would not know it’s poison.

La Loba

La Loba

When all was most astray

and I neither felt life’s colours

nor tasted love’s sounds,

from deep within my person

penetrated a soul-pained cry

to the bone-woman.

Oh Earth Mother,

the One Who Knows,

you see my hollow parts,

their rot,

their lifeless branches,

snap them where they spoil

and build from them

a bonfire

to warm my apathetic splinters

and regenerate this flesh.

For I will walk across the desert

and wade through

the river beneath the river

just to knock on your old weathered door

and offer you sing over my bones.