nthposition online magazine

How temper fits


[ poetry - march 09 ]

the ooze of you
enters the room and light is sapped
by three prongs of your anger

the dull wall
flakes ash and mould
to the dirt floor

the vapours around you
condense like rain
and fall
forming grey residue
painting everything

you push at me
your rough tongue
your wilderness you

feral, flapping your wings
lovely child