Poetry

Issue #2

Living with the Enemy

A year i have fought you.
My never-ending quest, which we will
Live out together through our
Destructive relationship.
Yet i don’t know your name.
No mother to name you -
Pandora is the only woman you know.

A year old you are,
i lie in bed with you,
My enemy.
i feed you,
My enemy.
Like the tapeworm gathering sustenance
You feed on my mind,
Spit out the leftovers
Leave me weak,
Yet won’t let me die as you grow strong.

You tried to kill me once, remember?
But you are too selfish and know you must die with me…
Six, soulless hours alone in a solitary ward,
i lied to the ambulance men,
pretended that you didn’t make me.

Officially it was an accident.


Autumn

The leaves can flourish now,
Now the sun has burned her glory out, too bright
No jade of envy stems from them
Not jealous of the sporadic clout
Sapping the life of gentle green gems

No, chestnut will triumph now,
When luminous yellow is a memory
Leaking from the delicate pores of gold
As crisp feathers fall from the tree
To blanket earth, abandoned, frozen, cold.

Amy Palmer