Two Poems

 

 

by Michelle Cahill

 

 

 

Nocturne for a Shy Girl

 

 

Mending her broken wires

so lovely dearest in limbo,

staring through cold glass.

The days were deadset paralysed

by domestic routine obscenity

configured way too sober

to navigate chaotic flights.

Fate was a kinder bitch then,

the beach a black tarpaulin

taunted myopic eyes

in legendary car parks,

this morpheus god was

a twisted chic heroine.

There were no dark ravens

or mountain peak score.

She felt in minor ambush:

undercover stars/ hip-hop moon

graffetti at point break —

strafe the masquerading sea.

A nobody’s junkie missis,

dreaming a rainbird’s song,

she shined like a field of wheat.

 

 

 

 

All Dressed Up

 

 

Lil’ Bijou’s dancin’

in macrame black,

an empress of bling

hungry for meringue,

poisonous butterflies,

snow on the headland.

A November moon

spills its specious light.

Dramatic intro’s, drop-ins

from an autoerotic dj

shot with crystal meth

and tied to his chair.

 

 

To get wasted

with Saturn, Uranus, Pluto.

A cracked water hose

lies like snakeskin

with a lap dog on the patio.

We smash plates against

the south-facing wall.

Giddy hostess,

yr peregrine eyes 

are faithless,

yr mouth red as bloodshot,

a charm I would swallow.