Narrated by Gerry Norton
In glowing rainlight we soak on this glum ramble. We swallow
beration like boiled sweets; it sticks in our throats.
Eyes remember day-old puddles and where that crumpled cigarette box lay,
bollards dashed with canine excrement. Your old school repainted grey.
Unavoidably painting a zigzag in breadcrumbs; shedding sustenance,
till your last steps are those of a hero persevering against impossible odds–
‘I am the messenger and I bring you eggs of example’.
Bells of a phoenix.
Wake bitter men to their caustic disposition spattering the rabid globe;
coins over eyes and recycle the bodies. Dealing fifty-two.
Shadows like frozen shrapnel. Vitriolic camels.
Swilling galactic oceans.
My spine fused into a scorpion tail. Eyes like shy blue lamplight glittering off
the grime on the ground. Others see an encased me but I’ve seen this body naked.
I know the system it runs on. I’ve seen its invisible vulnerable power…
as gorgeous as blood on snow.
Speakless. Meek wrists. Weak for a saviour’s kiss.
Hacked into a pale resemblance, limping onward as a matter of policy,
my wet steps are sobs that only I hear.
AUTHOR BIO: Gerry Mark Norton is an artist who was born in London, England in 1989. He has self-released one book of poems, Sick Roses, and two albums of music, A Momentary Lapse in Lethargy and Feasting, Dancing & Revelry. He has been published in Quail Bell, Misfits’ Miscellany, Eskimo Pie, Red Ochre Literature, The Rusty Nail, Danse Macabre, Circa Review, The Vehicle, Eunoia, Rose Red, Poetry Super Highway and Thick Jam, and has work forthcoming in The Toucan. He is currently studying for a BA in Creative Writing at Falmouth University.