Natalie Crick — The Monarch Review
Plums at Night – Natalie Crick
Tuesday, March 7, 2017 12:04 — 0 Comments
The night is plum-dark. Horses hang in the depths of sleep, Haunches gleaming blue-black as Dripping dusky fruit, Skin enticing touch, Misted by the press of my thumb. I want to bite right down To the hard grooved core, Flesh dense as Blood in lungs, Pulse of the heart Throbbing to be licked, Thirst and murmur and desire Rolling the tongue as the Horse’s eyes Turn to their whites in Fright. Wide and open as a cage In the belly of the night, Asking: ‘Do I dare?’
What am I?
Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies
Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;
Scientists can't find me.
Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—
Remind me:
The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…
Tick, Tock: Divine me.
-- Richard Kenney
