Antony

You touch my face –
Your finger end
Pressed on me like my skin should fail,
You make my body feel like paper film,
Cutting iron forms your nail.

When you touch I move away,
Not ever sure this face won’t crumple,
All these lines of black on white
In crushed up powders split and tight
Where my face breaks out to smile

Take your hand off

And I’ve flinched –
You’ve made
My lip a cherry snag,
And my heart is beating outwards
Lonely blood against your nail
Where two reds are there together;
Your finger polish,
Blooded nail

Those iron nails of yours unbedding
My life that holds the lacquer
Of mirror-mornings
And the clatter
Of new lipstick in my bag

Look at me
And see the part that you’ve left open
Spoiled with blusher, grease, and cream

You have seen all of the parts to me
You are now holding what I mean

My heart is yours you utter,
And my face I feel
Is seen

The Tension Leaves

Scarlet or white
Or even triumphantly pink,
Your petals are cloves of petrified flame
Like closed hands,
With the coldness of pacified fire

Those leaves
Have the amphibian about them
And the spattered white crest –

The whole arrangement like a seized lilypad,
Broken into smallness
And smashed over with the crest of white water

But you live together!
Half flame,
Half water,
And the indescribable tension between

Could it be –
Strange fires erupting
And made still by the pool?

Cyclamen!
I see you now
And your flowers are gone,
But always the unending leaves
Splash-scalded and tireless
Are rising,
Pondering out,
Where the flames you had borne
Gave up