h o m e........
p a s t   i s s u e s....
s u b m i s s i o n s....
l i n k s

 

 

...............
MOLLY BENDALL


.............
LOOKING STARBOARD 

Usually I'd meet up

with a seasonal whisper and

then I'd want the restless coat

for going out together, snapping

our way to the slow-bake

coast. I'd shake out my hair

and all the handles would turn

unlocking the phase of lapse.



I want to heave up some big

reasons to moan,

my Johnny-lamb, forget.

Dream up some stuff (I tell myself)

like drams of snow from

an old morning, like worries

kept close in a matchbox

glued with glitter-

sing its little engine if

you want to see.



So what do you say, as the coast

slinks around. Worry me

some more like you do, wringing me

until my ribs shake.

I trust too much

night's counterpoise.



These lanterns have soft skin

and the walk should do me good

near the green glow, warbling shards

where rain comes cheap and

my whisper's in a snare.