Tessellations a rabbit sneaks over my windowsill spills oblong light across the floor viscous as cream curdles in a snarl of salamanders fluorescent on the walls that bloat bulge suppurate burst the air hums bees in my hair crawl over my skin i grope for some hold-fast but corners collapse light and shadow striate fish swim with the waves against the waves darkness lifts where the ceiling used to be a shriek of gulls flecks on cloud not bombs or planes but birds the colour of blood spills on to rooftops and moon-shadowed stairs to nowhere war a game played without rules pieces drift in liquid light teeter at a precipice floor dissolves in darkness i cling to an edge while all night long an unembodied voice detonates the news In dawn’s faint light I construct lines, squares, rhomboids, hexagons, to plaster absent walls with tessellations. Marian Christie Marian Christie grew up in Zimbabwe and has lived in South Africa, the Netherlands, Oman and Scotland before moving to her present home in Kent. When not writing or reading poetry, she looks at the stars, puzzles over the laws of physics, listens to birdsong and crochets gifts for her grandchildren. https://marianchristiepoetry.net/ Twitter: @marian_v_o.
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September 2024
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