Your Ears May Burn

She was tall
But never close enough
to feel
Pretend is more fun
Forensic timeline pathology
intersected by blooms
and stray insects
French language labs
someone pulled the blinds
and one eye clouds over from behind.
Check your thirst on wine
not yet finished. Plentiful supply.
Good vintage. Regarde. Tu Attende?
Too soon! Why did you stop?
Real is better, son.
Salvaged scorn plans unborn
Get Friday, Friday, Friday!
voir the vore, Tame the whore
Take a backseat a while
your star is in the ascension
You will be reborn.
Into the same but different
A new day. Something like before.
A chance to prove yourself this time.
Before you scorn, the fire in your ear.

Burning Ear by alphaNicobaralpha

©2017 Andrew Watkins


Hair In My Eyes

Hair In My Eyes Again makes me wonder

If like Sampson it means I’m getting stronger,

Or like a goat just that I’m getting older

and my woes longer and more immediate.


The skin on my toes is a different colour

to that of my feet and legs around the nails

which scratch my legs in bed. This will need

to be sorted  if I intend sharing my bed again.


My hands are a thing of beauty, they just require

an artist’s touch to bring out the juice of carved wood

and slender branches that make up its tendons

and capillaries, bone and nerve ending.


One day when this is all just dust will I live on

in some other way? On another day will this bring a tear

to my eye or to that of my children’s who are still a

mere series of twists in their father’s genetic spirals?