in a sweat of nutmeg i plant my thighs
in a sweat of nutmeg
i plant my thighs
it is with a clean
look in my eye
that I populate the
canvas with vertiginous ash
in an apocalyptic
temper
I guard the orphaned
words
with a smudge of
fennel and rosemary
rumbling is heard in
the distance
over blazing gravel
I chase the thorns
the oranges bend
down to smell the grass
the rocking tractor
dives into
the ordinary parade
of stringy pity
i shiver
the charcoaled
japanese maple
divides the sky into
a sizzling griddle
the over-exposed
ladder
draws its legs
closer
and sneezes from its
peeling paint
the canvas
participates in the fornication
sway, swim, screw, grate
and usurp the moment
of lawless energy
my phlegmatic
suitcase
frenetically
practices
to pinch the desiccated
sesame seeds
I lie flat on my
back
let the open blue
sky fabricate
its own panegyric
- Lara Kirsten
