Photograph: Desolata By Vigano Alessandro Source: Fallowstore

Image: Radioactive by heavenriver Source: psychedelic-psychiatrist

Into a Spiral

I saw you In the café so well Put together Sipping tea

But as you walked Away I noted Your trajectory

Seemed to Set you Spinning

Just when did you start spiraling out of control and Where Do You End Now?

-Skye

Plague Doctor

So here in the shining city on the hill we watched the broad plain with its shifting grasses always thinking the trouble would arrive at the gate announcing itself.

But no, it crept in in ones and twos broken glass lungs etched in X-rays seeping in under the gate.

We could not fathom the wave of misery that broke us open.

The burbling cry of wet breath that choked the air filling every corner.

We wailed for answers.

The plague doctor came surveying the heaps of dead plying us with platitudes and potions crying “Let them inject bleach!”

Pushing out the dead early in the morning I saw him shambling down the hill.

Empty eyes behind his mask and blood on his hands.

-Skye

On the American Gun

Bullets Chambered Rolling down barrels

Mowed down At desks covered in Transformer and Hello Kitty pencils Mowed down Behind the counter of a corner store Mowed down In the living room TV a flicker   Mowed down At a traffic stop bathed in blue lights

Everyone packing violence and old glory Red on White and blue

Our thoughts and prayers Raised up Respects paid in full

On the altar of the American gun

Broken dead Are everywhere Tangling on the On the wind Like flags at half mast Splashed in bright paint on grimy bricks Piled among wilted flowers and teddy bears Wet with rain

Unalienable rights Ravenous appetites Arms raised to the sky

Sacrifice Thoughts and prayers Sacrifice Thoughts and prayers Sacrifice

Bullets Chambered Rolling down barrels

-Skye

Wilhelm Kotarbiński (Polish, 1849-1921)

Crowning the Poet, 1881

Women

Soft fair Roman women weave peonies and roses

Into fragrant crowns in the mild morning

To rest upon the marble brows of venerated poets filling villa courtyards with polite chatter

Receding deep within shadowy villas only when confronted by midday sun

Keeping alters to old gods keeping secrets bearing sons bearing daughters.

Long dead fictions with soft brush marks and heavy gold frames

These are the women who turn up in the Victorian Paintings contemplated in galleries on Sunday Afternoon

-Skye

Source: thewitchywench

Cat in a Hat

On Brighton beach Where I often went Walking I came upon a Little black cat Sporting a top hat Looking out at sea

I watched this little soul So jauntily dressed For a water side stroll First in wonder Then in distress

Just where was His waistcoat and tie?

-Skye

Ordinary

It’s the common things The row of milk Whole Skim Even Almond

It’s the cart with the Wonky Grumbly wheel

It’s holding hands While hunting   Creamed corn

(Who buys creamed corn anymore, anyways?)

It’s standing in line Watching apples Roll along the belt Knowing with certainty There will be pie.

- Skye 

Image Source: Headless-Horse

Early Morning Milking

Miguel Is there Turning on lights Cleaning teats

Full Udders Need to be emptied At 4 and 4 again

The farmer comes With the hay and the grain As his father did when he was The boy who cleaned the teats

At present he feeds the cows And Miguel Empties their udders

The farmer loves the barn The cows And his children Away at school

Miguel loves the barn The cows And his children so young and Far away In Caracas

Two men working together In the well-lit barn.

Seaside Graveyard, Orkney Isle

Long after the flowers died I wait here overlooking the sea

This grave of mine grown over with mosses and salt air I wait here overlooking the sea

The place beside me empty and unbroken No stone no whisper of you just me overlooking the sea waiting here

Waiting for my Sailor To return to me.

Moody seaside graveyard, Orkney Isle, Scotland

April 2024

Fisherman's Catch

Hapless Mermaid who walked upon the land and grew to miss the sea with its deep dark places

Absent of air

I watched her one evening slip below the surface so beautiful so broken covered by sea

When I pulled her up out of it into my arms I realized she was only a common girl

After all

Shallow pale and choking on ocean.

-Skye

Sally Gall

Caitlin, 1996