Poetry

Four Images

I

Between moist grass and sunbright sand

I can smile; touch your hand.

II

A taxicab sits and waits,

Sits like a dead spider,

With legs curled up

And in.

III

Her vanity: the powder she

Smears on her skin.

To kiss it is to cough.

Underneath the daub is

Like her mind: strewn turpitudes

Of her sterile skin.

IV

Chocolate coloured leaves blow about your

pale ankles and crunch like cockroaches.

Ian Hartnell