rush by AnnMarie Eldon

this is the fall of it the eyes didn’t follow the phook grendadinary of it the complicit fallows the distempered reconnoitres what are the ousted stays the ones the hands didn’t the way they stayed in pockets  the terrible inhibit also others’

these ways are the ways of the heated tempers they
should go over unraveling past stations and not of 
the cross not any number fourteen fifteen or invented
more these are train stops and not metaphor track ends

these are the link muscles pierced these are the  heart tremors muspering their susupenses these hearse-ways
the stare blocks the shoulders not quite curse-brushing 
the stranger-days there too could be ice in the clink-pools  no One to care so

packice forms in the nether cracks and sesquemious strands and the unmartyred the pyre stain the widow shadow the other way the branches felled with no axe  upon no steady rays the fingers durst not play

dust in the alley trays and all else thrown out rooks
scavenge as loners this against nature and even wrists remain up to the elbow in leaf temper and a cold mould  upon their crease risk hills make governance dreams

dreams where palms as full as pomegranates a sublimation gathered beneath a store of random misses the unplanned
by cloudful straightway to the spine she squats as  a mountain gnat to sustain the time to wait to uncurse spit settled

his voice but part only like whisper rains a possible
of cold but furlongs yet the forethought spare change clinks in the rowted care places grips grips fervent  if need a place now as a sign now as a population now a named grid

reference not mere number but Solomon’s song source the pendulum’s triangulation see how the windows meet the shunt redeplorable for spines to coalesce all
tremoring all clamoring for cheek space the course the deep-well the suckplace the more-strange the met-curse

long long road the sway the undulating bed creases 
slumber lack projected scree slopes slight hitches
skin flakes sweat for the asking mace-mordant fogs
rift valleys full of pride sloughed pedigree smiles all fake hindrances stepped aside sullies and the
rucked sheets and

tears joined too precipitation enough to oasis the
prayers’ populace gifted a trinity sowersing this
      this-river sense there where there is something pubic in the private ravine dogs scent for it heaven obeys
with a folding star seen latterly to careen wolf and bane together

far overdue display of destination in the pupils’ 
reflections each iris having a vanishing point formerly
supplication becomes the only harbor he he goes down and. Far and. Again overdue on knees and makes a curse enquiry the ley lines preamble doors open to let

the crush screams hover there is excess just as the
clouds give out her juice is the bone carcass meadow grass and we, we go marring to the final tamarind’d 
lush-smell to foul upon the path we spraint as the doves would if they were ghouls all eyes

feign tempt to torture risk take the hands from pockets find the pulse-pace between blade hills fill the space between leg valleys follow the trail between need  ravines the haste forswears it much pace it broils and binds the co-fellow tumble it the only follow-chrism it

it trust dares it it swallows this touch place hope  bares it nothing to hallow except the constant the
  constant sunken tremble the now-parting calumnies
the far-ardent creamy white samite jizz of her asking it their arms wild-linked the forlorn undefiled more  taxing of the unborn child

by AnnMarie Eldon

published by Avatar

1 comment

  1. Fantastic – really enjoyed this – good imagery and atmosphere. Keep on keeping on!

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