Hayloft

http://nonsensesociety.com/2013/07/lina-kay/

lina Kay

https://in.pinterest.com/pin/40462096629922561/ The drawstrings of your dress
swept
down your spine,
reveal a tender back
and little hairs, fine.
A jumble of knotted vanilla ribbons,
reminds me of the hayloft,
where we rested our heads
the summer before last,
when the world owed us
and we found solace in the stars
Now,
the drawstrings of your dress
swept
down your spine
such a carnage of skin
straw milled, light
your hair all sticks and leaves
swallowed by the burden
the weight of birch stick
leaving welts behind.

J.CALVERT 2016

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Melted Tallow

The edges of the paper

burn

loosely twisted cord

smouldering in the dark

melted tallow

and vanilla plum

the heat overcomes

the smoked-filled room

washes down her throat

shadowing windpipes

suffocating her lungs

sickly-sweet intoxication

the script melts

ink and promises  

dissolve into night

black smoke left hovering

entwined

the words of her lover

lost

the oil lamp burns on.

J.CALVERT 2016