The Kitchen Gods are at it again
small things reflect
on larger
either way
understanding death
is a bewilderment
of hot wired fancies.
Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2016
Tag: daily life
Midnight
Midnight
Midnight sulked in its chamber, watching the witchlights
Out on the bay, strands of unborn thoughts
Flaring and dying as we all do.
He saw a comet some days before
The arc of it scored the sky; as if it remembered
Something he regretted, green as velvet
Soaked in oak moss, sullen as silver
Chrism of this earth.
If this is living, how is it so easy
To scry the other world?
Wrapped in laurel
Soaked in myrrh
Bitter as oud.
I sniff at the colours
Flowering mercilessly.
My hands clasp brushes, pens
It is a good embrace.
Veronica Aldous all rights reserved 2016
November 5th
November 5th
The sky slings its limp tarpaulin
Over a wan summer colored arcade
Walled away from chitter-chatter
I wish I had brought a red lipstick
Instead of this widow-dark shade
Which printed a hostile fan on my cup
The cake is gracefully uncoiling
Custard and raisins spiralling outward
Oblivious to sorrow or hardship
Pastry is better than sour old symbols
Which turn the stomach to stone
Galoshes and worms, blighted apples
And all the cold wet rubbery
Apparatus of trying not to remember
How it turns on a point
In one hapless spin.
Veronica Aldous 2016 all rights reserved
Original art Veronica Aldous not to be reproduced
Veronica Aldous 