what comes after the morph*
what comes after the morph
after they fill your cells
with the dream of poppies
with the dream of redemption
gained without walking on embers
with the dream of breaking
the lead carcass
and let free the seeds of air
when angels with crisps collars
bathe you
in the white of their wings
before they thrust the needle
what comes after the morph
when you curl
into the foetal position
and dream of your mother’s womb
while alien hands
swathe you in lint –
and what comes after the morph
when there is no after
and time peels off you
like poppy petals
innocent, unaware…
…………………………..
*slang for ‘morphine’
© Aprilia Zank
preparing for the death on stage (VI)
on the ivory balcony
facing floodlights
velvet curtains embroidered with gold
tuning of chords
silk and brocade around waists
shaped on the spin
and if it were not
for having to hold
the pillars of the world
I would move to the edge
and fly the flight of birds
among arrows of light
on the way home
to the tiny glass case
in the desert
with nothing but sand
shining like gold flakes
in the hair
of a thousand year old woman
who on full moon nights
rides her wild horses
bareback
and knows how to turn
virgins to witches
at dawn
I would watch the corn germinate
watch fake goddesses
dancing for rain
sun burnt skin
shimmering through basil and vines
I would follow the traces
of migrating birds
and search my way
in patterns of light
too frail to grasp
but I find myself
there again
on the ivory balcony
with arrows of light
converging
onto the stage
onto the spot
where they will all die
one
by
one
© Aprilia Zank
the missing hour
on putting the hours
back into their cases
I noticed
that one was missing
the two to three hour
when the one-eyed cat
sits staring
from the obscurity
of walnut branches
while its empty orbit
absorbs the night
in greedy gulps
and the moon
seeping monthly blood
keeps moaning
behind ragged clouds
I could hear the mole rats
digging labyrinths
into darkness
I could sense
shadows in the shadow
and I wondered
when the next case
will remain empty
© Aprilia Zank
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