Shetland Boy
By gristo
Poems for my new show, Shetland Boy
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- 591 reads
The bailiff of Scraefield Manor
This wind won’t let us be. Knowing the debt Our flesh owes, it’s come to collect. Batters The door. Hungry for bounty. Headbutting walls While we bury the bed. Lie above it as nothing
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Alchemist
One night, believing myself big enough, I crept out of bed to neck my Father’s mouthwash. The mixture ripped my throat, Leapt from mouth and nose
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It's really F-ing cold
This is a bit of an odd one.
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Hermaness
When darkness has pulled its hood over the hills And the pulse of the wind is your only companion I’ll still be about, on the edge of your vision A kiss on the quiet beneath your cagoule
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