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