Issue #11


There are body fishers circling your island, dragging up and selling on
the decrepit spirit cages that drowned beneath your whirlpool fractures
entranced by your siren swansong to drift amongst their sea of failings
you're planning which Cerberus head to feed next,
whom you'll entertain with your hourglass experience
and which haggard jigsaw scrap shall hack itself apart
to live awhile amidst your maddened masterpiece
how have you gone so long caressing self-deceit
how can a vegetarian devour so much meat
and why can you not drown me, I'm no Samson
no anchor to harbour your detachment
you are wayward and weathered and impossible to define
tightrope walking along the borderline;
my nightmares envision you falling

Sam Kendall