Anthem

New York’s summer breath

climbs heavy through the window

and the restless worm wrestles

through apple rot.

 

Narcissus’ trumpets

wither in astonished atrophy,

recoiling into the earth

 

as the amnion ruptures,

a parting of seas in the

holiest of churches –  

 

between

the wide open legs

of an obedient woman,

 

held to ransom by

blanched agony, lips

anaemic, lily white.

 

Skull shards shift tectonic

and give passage

to the crowning;

 

the searing stretch of emergence,

the ripping of the mantle,

the sting of the slap –

 

And it breathes.

 

The bed sheets are soiled

with immigrant blood

the colour of November poppies,

 

and writhing in it,

the jaundiced newborn skin

of an epoch in waiting:

 

a God complex

with baby sized fists

clutching nuclear warheads.