//The exorcist leaves our solar system
Called by their kindness, some, and
cursed to serve, others, but
I am just hungry, from room
to room nick-nacking
He sets the oven doors ajar
and moves the pictures all awry:
the house is breathing on the shore,
the house is angled at the sky.
He puts fresh knives in amongst
the forks and spoons, throws
away the good chicken,
turns away the television
“the license of metals”, works
that smart, their tickless hearts
and stomachs – incensed
we cast the old botherer out
to warm daisies, knowing ourselves
shapeless, supple &
(by this explain that
we are in, you are out
to make plots possible
in god’s plotholes
between the frames of the
risen pasture, silver
tomatoes on a sunned bone.
Here is where the roundel, revolution,
vulva and aorta are contracted
to a thumbstruck pretty blue pea.
We don’t see you and can
never go home.)
//The mage is AFK
Her gift once was upon a time
to comprehend the least and most,
what can be left unsaid,
what sung, what interspersed
to make a bomb. Slowly to work
over the grieving bully-boys, draw god
from them like a bee sting.
Surely to make spears and guns
into sticks, wrongfoot the river, prodding
gouts into square water – little
places for mirth. She worked weekends
to double our portions, but one day,
in the larder of her labour, a frightful jingle:
all she knew had turned and grew
as metal will, its lines of contest
and report, busier than bees,
so she stopped for good
in her flesh, a hot pink bulb.
//The fluffer has forgotten his line
A flashcut assures openings
for up-and-comers, but how to light
the match, is everybody’s question.
Friction, all too handy, slackens
for want of breath or flanking actions.
Routers in cots in cul-de-sacs, shriek
pop doggerel and wisdom: the place,
the pace, how long and how much force,
which welts are sweetest, what suns
best burnish undersides of beds.
Take your heart into your hands.
Add up motes of daring, subtract
roads plied by litter-pickers, those
of unfixable abode. Undo
sirens of strawberry and gold.
Edwin Evans-Thirlwell is a poet and doctoral student at Royal Holloway, University of London, previously published in Antiphon, SPR Annual, Agenda, Zoomorphic and Brittle Star. His projects include a verse response to NASA’s Voyager 1 and the Golden Record.
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