Enjoy the second part of this Sunday post.
By Neil Horabin
guitar strings, jacks and cables, pedals, more cables,
his fingers pick at the four strings in rotation and the feedback rises, sustains
he presses his lips against the mesh of the mic, lets out a murmur
and begins to sing;
home is not a place for,
home is just wherever you are,
and you are all the world to me’
I picture you, back pressed up against the wire fence,
the rust leaves a message on your coat,
and I feel your lips on mine, my tongue on your teeth
they’re sort of metallic, I love that, the cold, the dryness,
tingling, capturing, magnetic.
you twist your fingers into mine,
your wedding ring scraping my skin,
as it should do,
then your mouth is on my neck and
those sensations lacerate my spine,
I take your earring into my mouth,
the gold, the diamond I bought for you,
and then it’s all hands and zips,
you climb all over me and pull me into you
controlling hands on my backside and frantic mouth upon mine
tongues unfurled once again, rose petals searching for the sun
melting away you have to cry out and I cannot stop myself
and you hold me tighter into you and push us over onto the ground
and all I can see is your silhouette, and metal.
Words, Pauses, Noises is fortunate to have not only talented writers but also innovative creators. Enjambment and the creative choice: to capitalise or not to capitalise – only touch on a small selection of poetic design, but such choices have charged the work of many of today’s up and coming poets. The Forward Prize for 2013 Best First Collection was awarded to Emily Berry at the British Museum 1 October. Her elegant, humorous, and striking collection “Dear Boy” encompasses incomparable tact in form and ingenuity. Words, Pauses, Noises praises, publishes and promotes the experimental revolution that continues to flourish in new literature.