GOTHIC NOVEL A woman alone is open and gaping Button hole without a button hook. She carries her muff before her like an offering Flic, flic! The eyes of strangers Slit the pause like razors. This railway carriage stinks of creosote, wet fur. “I prefer the window up, thank you” “I prefer it down” She lights a Sobranie to remind her Of Devon in the haying; the gentlemen Lean forward, reading the initials On her morocco case.
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GROUNDS FOR DIVORCE
I wanted the house, you Didn’t; simple as that. I liked the way the roof Lost battle to the windows You saw decay But then I’m always tempted By the portents that you fear. Decay is just Another form of growth. You desired Virgins; unlike me whose wells (well dug) are deepening daily like my eyes, hardening like my body, sheltering soul-spores ready for flight. That must be why I’ve always Loved eldest sons Seeing in their unpaged faces No passage perfect as the leaf-lines That I saw in yours Where death had sketched you Many times, casting For the final portrait. What the Hunter Said To The Deer
“Marriage dead, Wife doesn’t understand me You’re what I’ve been waiting for” |
Alysse AallynAuthor Archives
September 2022
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