The Creatures



The Creatures 
Neither wet nor solid  they talk in specious gobbles
Raising their grass hair above lagoons to snort at selkies
They are brought cheese enfolded in damp green sheathes
Placations from vacillating towheaded girls…

When darkness shrouds their bleak inchoate eyes
They sink sucking the silty fish as they swim by
Burying stolen cords and scarves, they hide
What knowledge came that day, of towns and streets
They cannot reach except in dulsey half-dreams
They sink their deep roots, tendrils probing
Widdershins curlicues growing from rods
So ancient they are ebonised.

It is the white skinned girls who fall down potholes
Tickled by the greenish tints in labyrinthine halls
Wandering through stain soaked sleep abysses
With confused and  lotus-naked thighs.


Veronica Aldous 2015  All Rights Reserved 


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 The Creatures

  1. Pingback: The Creatures | Veronica Aldous – Poetry

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