I’m strutting stratospheric,

embellished and splendid

in my NHS wedding dress.

My mother was here before me,

her father before her, his uncle

before that — lucky, lucky me

— our platinum gilted heirloom hops generations and genders,

our gene pool a puddle of madness

thickened with blood and tear-streaked shrieking saliva.

I’m in my unsilent season,

souped up and bursting,

far too sexy

to sedate. This is my circus

and I am the airborne acrobat

defying my earthly anchors

until they come for me,


First published on Poethead, June 2017.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s