Tiny Jungles

410-lipstick20plant20trinidadI shall pull away with my jackdaw’s hands
Your bed from my ageing frame –
It’s forestry and troupe of fools
That spin around your thighs.
I shall push my nails beneath
The leaves of skin I leave behind;
Dust and suet, all the kings men,
Between your filthy window frames
I would tear out thirty
Pieces of silver to be
Somewhere between
The new woods and you.

About Benjamin Norris

Published writer of short stories, long stories, poems. Well received art critic and cultural commentator for Berlin magazines. Collaborator with operatic societies. Co-writer of fictional historic psycholinguistic journals. Lecturer of architecture and art history at a Budapest University. View all posts by Benjamin Norris

4 responses to “Tiny Jungles

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