More to follow.
Ear
Sorry, you were saying? My eyes were spilling
around your ear. How it is petalled
and useless, your nautilus ear.
Overcome by the need to chew like gum
the cherry pie and ice cream crust
of hard-soft, hard-soft, I notice nothing but
that delicate pastry cooling on your skull’s sweet ledge.
Might I pinch the coldest ridge between
my middle finger joints while you bow
your man-child’s head; might I scrunch it, crush it
out of this world not good enough for it.
A cleaved grapefruit church glass-coloured to us, yes;
but to an ant the pale segments, runelled
with glue ropes, interlock to form a vast
pink tundra, onto whose citric expanse
the ant will clamber, sink his body’s glass
in pithy juice and drink, antennae-deep
in rolling fizz. The buck and thrust his spindle
hips give out is sherbet giddiness
when sucked too greedily, the taste heady;
sucked from fingers till it stings the balmed lips –
the ant left delirious and dizzy
in this, his crystal, edible landscape.
Words by Matthew Haigh: http://matthewhaighpoetry.wordpress.com/
Photos by Caleb Sivyer
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