Slubtle

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Mad Maude textile fragmentby Veronica Aldous

Slubtle Maja

Maja is lying in bed with chocolates, two in each hand
Melting hotly like a wilting clotting sheaf of leaves
Books surround the empty empress, books on how to
Do it. How to. Help the self.
She is erasing messages; they go into etheric zones
Of silence, the  words hanging unsaid, unread
The phone screen is smeared and smutty
There is no skin to touch or tend, no finality
It’s as though there are still all the things to do
Mounting up somewhere. Is he, she alright?
Oh disgusting squalor of weeping snot
Oh aspirin and lavatories and throwing up
Panic sets in around each hour
A mantel clock set to kick  her teeth in.

Eggs separate. One is meringue, the other a rich sauce
We are not eggs. Our substance is inseparable
The extraction feeling is ooof oeuf –
Badly anaesthetised surgery flashbacks

Meanwhile his ectoplasm dances angrily
On the dark ceiling

She calls the nocturnal spirit-police
He’s stalking her dreamscapes.

 

Veronica Aldous 2016  all rights reserved.

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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 Lulu.com. Now there is also 'Mortal' her second book.
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One Response to Slubtle

  1. Bart Wolffe says:

    This is mad, wild and wonderful, a truly discombobulated panic portrait painted by a very well-composed poet, Veronica Aldous! ❤

    Like

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