Poems by Grant Tarbard (UK)
Published in The Ofi Press issue 48
Ode to My Disability
I am enamoured with my enclosing,
favourite of an unmade bed,
the white arsenic of my toppling
free, bound into gravity's stream.
Mend this toxin, capable of being carried
but unwilling to admit to devastation,
unable to confront my bit lip
and split knee revealing the patchwork of my matter.
My raspy throat rattles to the whistle
of an unforgotten first loves name,
this echo of an H-bomb burns me from the inside
out contorting my features, legs in a grimace
to the soil that used to be underfoot
until the flames consume me and I become invisible.
Loneliness is the Machine that Drives this World
My breast is a wood carving of a lark that sings;
loneliness is the machine that drives this world.
I splinter my spray painted vowel shapes
my language is as crude as a stone tool,
a means of escape into hallucinations
that rampart my Adam's apple,
a door into my throat. In the fuzz
of my skin is a jigsaw of scars that I'll pack
and bring out as a game on a rainy day
to walk on the yellow grass that’s sealed in a walnut.
Grant Tarbard is internationally published. His collection, As I Was Pulled Under the Earth, published by Lapwing Publications, is available now.
Image: "Walnut" by Chris Brown.