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.

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.