Alma’s Tricky Biscuits.

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Lie down in your backyard; let Alma comfort you
With sore swigs of apple-nettle juice
The bandy-legged crows pluck at the rusting
Thing
which was once  a refrigerator
I can smell rat-Saturday blowing up the high street
The ineffable litter of hoodwinking dealers
The morning window scrapers, the sweet angelic
Alley
blessed by a vagrant tiny tributary
and Ophelia’s weed-

I found some words on a corner-torn Rizla packet

This man is loitering
I don’t know if he has intent

It gave me internal rickets.

 

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2017

Photograph Veronica Aldous

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Translation

Pinks

 

I misheard a word they used
It clung to me like stale smoke
‘Weary of  the sky and of love’
They bragged and boozed
In the small clean town
Below Zugspitze
Their black broth was the finest

High days their white sleeves
Resembled the laminae of cream cheese pastries
Or schist from the lower slopes –
I can understand they did not like change
Because their feet were stubborn stumps
Stuck into  inherited clogs

On Holzklötzestrasse
The townsfolk gazed in amazement
The cruel face of the mountain
Curled its white lip
Its summit was melting.

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2017

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Politickle

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Artwork copyright Veronica Aldous

Woman with strange Implement- Handprint on linen with stitch collage

Politickle

Hester trapped by the prevalent hegemony
Stitched an apron to her thighs, turned Lamia
The things that we do to escape the flies!

Ran a teashop full of homunculi
Boiled battered hedgerow flitted berries
Into a ripe rich bloody genius pie

Sewed and sewed until the shadows flew
Parthenogenetically created dopplegangers
To create a state of free enterprise

Went knee deep into wet fields and wept
Broke cups and plates and drove the needle hard
Into what she could, the letter A.

Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2017