Clare Davies

paroxysm

for the girl
of blue equations
and tender faces

for her pink thigh
and the process
of her thinking

i am hiking
up volcanoes.

carry her lips
on me

lest they
suddenly smile


the lost, drowned pine


ropes

i am ageing
eglantine and
spirit.
furthermost
i reach you
spindle, wood,
lake palm upper thigh.
bridged between
daylight,
off set by a
whirlwind, soon
escape, perhaps
elevated,
drugged special, we
break flowers
and die.



Clare F. Davies lives in her little attic flat in Brighton, England. She writes poetry, short stories and is also a song writer. Personal blogs: This Beautiful Hunger, Hunter is Asleep