Mountainside woodland
Mother’s friend, local butcher’s pig and wine
Char and soot, inexperienced cooks.
Bonfires inflated-forests
Escape Stygian collapse
Hill-perched stovetop
The umami mud of tent-floors
Sprawling sparingly,
Outrageous.
The dewing rage of milled mist
The taste of rain in a morning of fast
The unbodied, the righteous,
The discourteous ones
This drizzle’s not kind either
Makes it time for cake
Red flowers and quail eggs
Orange zest for the menopausal warmth of ox-eyed Hera
Honey and gold for Amphitrite’s brackish favour
Unregretting, I ate basil and mint
In painted pots on your balcony
All the cigarettes you smoked there for me
Linger as salt on your scrambled eggs
Bent over to check unfurling, infuriating details
Revolting resolution of mechanical candour
A crow hops around a stick
Ripping it to shreds to build its nest
Holding spring in its beak
Hidden from view
Shredded clothes, a nestless man
Hops around a twig-flesh tinted skip
Resin and mould for Amphitrite’s brackish favour
Rituals, hunger, nature
Dutiful offerings abjure their flavour
Unwinning entry to OPL’s “TASTE: A poetry competition”. Thanks again to them for the inspiration!:)
Letters to myself: a diary 