The filth and the rag brine
The mirror looked like it had been up all night.
A sunken, netted and pilfered salmon
Marked by the severity
Of the fisherman’s net.
Blood dances like shadow assassins.
Inflated, pink skull.
The room dropped to its knees.
A man can bruise in many ways.
Eyes tired as mothers of gin
And drivers with bad road directions.
The gut of brokenness.
Overture in songbird elegy:
Reminder of the dead broken heart.
You are always alone,
Strange days
August side effects;
Ruminating on shellac,
The beautiful Demoiselle,
Found among fast flowing waters:
Calopteryx Virgo,
In the flesh.
Erect in blanket white,
Shoulders alone;
Camellia in late winter,
Meek,
In dishabille.
Bionote
Mark G. Pennington was born 1985 and lives and writes in UK. Previous publications are under the name J. Rose in magazines such as Dear Sir, The Journal UK, Broken Wine, Clockwise Cat and others. Rose has also published a first book in 2012, titled Lithium Clockwork.
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