The mist round a globe has created an astonishing feathery aureole
Every alien colour is just a shade too light to be remembered
A reminder from the old ones to watch out for violet-red –
All impressions are felt deep in the human bowl
Of flowering skull and slow radiant belly-soul

Mortal, my little snake, is coiled round my hand, he sees the radiance
But it means snake-all to him, he’s a serpent of purpose and lusts
What he wants is the greedy flap of juicy flop-flies
His citrine eyes flick and love me more for letting him ligate
So hard he nearly cracks the bone.


About Veronica Aldous

Writer and artist, Veronica is a lecturer is Fine Art and Creative Writing. Her first book of poems, 'Moon Cinema' is now available on Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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One Response to Nimbus

  1. Bart Wolffe says:

    this poem is strangely insidious and very haunting!


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