Grey
Harlots
I
A choir of angels sang Götterdämmerung
As I slept in the departure lounge.
And when the horizontal light cast
Smeared rays upon my hair
I stowed your ovaries in my suitcase
In the departure lounge,
I had begun to learn the piano
That no longer housed the language of
Being in its veins.
And when the Christmas tree fell
I began to snort pine needles from
Your nostrils before
You swam in the grey aisle.
II
When you slept in the Doges Palace
Whilst twelve Delian Divers
Burnt an effigy
To the sea
We prepared your grave.
In the morning you complained
Of not feeling
Alive
Before I
Set fire to
The Grand Canal.
And when the cortège
Passed by my window
I too
Threw myself into
The rain
III
The kingfisher had dropped me in her grave,
And I lay buried in shellfish
As I plucked
Your hairs from my mouth
Beside the waste, I had found myself
Sleeping beneath your frigid hands
Whilst you ploughed through my drawers.
Pressed to the floor,
You let the olives roll over
Your fleshy carcass
Whilst I danced
On your head.
IV
When the sun fell into
Your window,
The Age of Caesarism
Was announced.
You hid in the attic
Amongst the remains
Of the Berlin Wall
As I slept in the
Courtyard
A redstart perched on
The gate
And when you came
To greet me
I was
Elsewhere
V
In a hotel lobby I fell to my knees
A wardrobe rolled down the aisle
Whilst the concierge announced the news:
“The spine of Heraclitus lay
Across your chest
And in a hill above the
Grey smouldering iron
They buried you”
Copyright © 2003 Dylan Trigg