siren song

one take // exploiting bathroom’s acoustics


“Involuntarily, I glanced seaward – and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away”

 – F. Scott Fitzgerald, ‘The Great Gatsby’


Across the digital bay

a beacon, small and green,

flashes, and is gone.


The current: silent, static,

but for a spare grey tick –

the crest of curious interest


not piqued enough to peak

and break the radio-waves.

From Sylvan Scene to Silver Seas

Airborne swimmer, in flight, she does not cling to herself; she is dispersible, prodigious, stunning, desirous and capable of others, of the other woman that she will be, of the other woman she isn’t, of him, of you.                                                                                                                                                –  Hélène Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa, p. 260

Oak-dark eyes.

Lips, bitten, blossom forth



They ache to explore

That dark and dew-sweet place

Where tongues – like vines – embrace.


The stirring swell of waves

Which urge to break between her thighs

Come to crest,– collapse in salt-edged tides.


And raw human meat was piled, and steamed.

Silence split at the seams as the living groaned.


Rope-ladder ribs in concert breathed

With the light lapping laughter of giddy sea.


The breaking of waves, a hand which beckoned

To kinder soils; yet stasis settled


As suits and clean faces crooned sympathy

(Then moved mildly away, muttering ‘policy’).


So salted globes on cheek-bones stagnated;–

Even the movement of human tears, halted.