Poem by Stephen Watt (UK- Scotland)
Published in issue 32 of The Ofi Press
Listen. The air crackles like wizard’s fingers.
The living-room smells acrid, lingers like unwanted visitors
implanted in this dollhouse.
Peacock feathers gust in the snores of frogmouths
who lie on the floors next to the fag douts
and spider-drowning wine bottles.
A reversed, out-stretched figure glistens in coconut oils.
Renegade jewellery sparkle beneath the couches
like unavowed secrets, sucked from spices of flesh,
pouches of trinkets spat into the unkempt carpets
of magpie nests.
This is orgy etiquette
if you happen to be a guest.
Last night’s symphony is reduced to a string quartet.
The slow, grotesque strip of a heavy burlesque act
contorted itself into a heady mix of alkaloids
and cocaine extracts. Instant Polaroids
slide between the memory cracks.
Thin, transparent sheets trace outlines of shapes,
crevices and swellings, rippled only by the scratching
of sensitive bare feet,
warmed by the vexing sun’s caress.
I wait for the stirring, the memory unscrewing,
and the regrets to manifest.
Stephen Watt is a poet and performer living in Glasgow. His debut collection ‘Spit’ was published in March 2012 by Bonacia, and he has been the winner of the Poetry Rivals Slam 2010, the Hughie Healy Memorial Trophy 2013 and the Federation of Writers (Scotland) Vernal Equinox competition in 2013.
Image: "Shower Silhouette" by Tausend und eins, foto-grafik.