Alchemisland

Night’s unsightly nail

Picked away the scab of day

Cold starfire the only light

Styrofoam white moating your cidery irises

I was inside you, tasted the dew of your White Lightning

Empty cans strewn around the loud bag where we colluded

Every sound unionised in pleasant fusion, we bled orgasm profusely.

I thought of deep caves, of steep protrusions

Of easily torn wet paper, unveiled illusions

Using harpoons as spoons or to clean teeth

When the seas are whaleless. Dead, all. Picked clean.

The pick me breeze could not be loud as her breathing

A creature without shame, before the shorn edict at Eden

In the cloistered Eton privacy of our pirated heat

“Deeper, you eejit.”

She laughed daftly but her imperious tone implied immediate.

Our snuggling stirred coals Boreas stole even while they smouldered.

Dirge calls, bird-heard currents, planets like currants on an onyx platter.