12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice



There were three
far enough away to be spared detail
close enough to keep me looking
to hear and hear
to have those notes
quavers prickle, lap, slide
like a boat splinter
under the reddening edges of me
they sang through the wood and the ropes
and I feared
that even the beeswax in the boys’ ears
might turn to honey

one, she said,
this is you:

in my mind she stood in my kitchen
she was Penelope
as I knew she would never be again
she’d caught a moth between
a clear jar and the window
I watched it flap unpanicked but urgent

she turned the jar, open end out

with freedom just over the shoulder
the moth battered itself
only understanding light and form
till the dust on its wings fell away

this was me, tied outside of the jar
that voice flush against my eardrums
rope and flesh
vein, fibre played at oneness
till tired wings glassed gouges on parts of my skull

that still itch at night
leave ropeburns like lovebites
sand on my pillow
the boy – a man, now –
growls in his sleep
my wife
curled into the tree-side of our bed
kicks as though swimming
and that song trails
tails off, ends with a shrug
like it was nothing


Tell me wotcha reckon

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


This entry was posted on October 8, 2013 by in Mythology and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , .

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,102 other followers


poems, prose and pathways

Dasha Maiorova

Writer | Artist

A Ciência em tudo

Fatos e Curiosidades sobre a natureza e tecnologia

James Radcliffe

Meditations on Art and Life


"per l' allegria il pianeta nostro è poco attrezzato. Bisogna strappare la gioia ai giorni futuri "

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

Two Twitch A Tale

Linking collage work to the meaning of personal and universal symbols.

At Home in Florence: Italian Renovations

This is my adventurous story about buying, designing, and renovating homes in ITALY

%d bloggers like this: