The Octopus

We pulled its dead carcass across the plain
Hands wrapped around tentacles twitching post-mortem
Lugging a shell void of breath

We inherited the deceased from our fathers
Not a single motherly tear shed at our born burden
Of transporting carrion insects

We pulled it through dried brambles and twigs sprung
From cracks marking where H₂0 vaporized a century ago
Our planet a desert deserted of life

We are the ‘Grim Reaper & Co’ moving company
No longer hands gripping tentacles but knuckles
Barred of flesh

We greet thou sallow picture of my poisoned love
With mercy conscious its skeletal reflection is our own
As we heave the octopus over our shoulders
And walk

We pulled its dead carcass across the plain
We pulled our dead carcasses across the plain    


Asphyxiate on grass,
Drown the thorax – place face in dirt.
Worms celebrate their pray: no longer hunted
By beak, preparing to feast, while awaiting rats
To nibble feathers deceased.

The Devil arises from six feet below
Aiming acorn bullets towards the heavens,
Attempting to reach God in order to question
His creation of hate.

With hole in chest the pigeon plunge,
Its body collecting rubber dust from passing cars,
Anticipating the arrival of maggots
With magnifying glasses.

Passing children claw at flesh
When eyes expand, expelling belief
In good when they discover white
Wings in dirt.

Herbarium of past lovers

will you press me like a flower? keep me
hidden within your holy scripture:
a complete collection of Shakespeare’s work.
caught between the thumb worn pages of A Midsummer Night’s Dream
while the Fairies declare: And I!           for I was never a part
of your colour-coded life plan, will never understand
why you would push me away and still keep every single petal
I gave to you in confidence. 
I remember watching you confer with stars,
spilling every secret you never dared to share with me,
and before I knew it I was one of them – your secret,
my washed out image tucked between the pages
of your life history.