Coronary Bypass

Coronary Bypass

Embrace me with anaesthetic.
Kiss my neck with curling long lines.
All my locks are already picked-
All you have to do is come on in.
Advance into the chambers of my heart
Caves- each one deeper than the last:
Crimson weeping walls papillary taut.
Strip me bare- subject me to your lost fortunes,
Bypass me-my bright and terrifying flesh and bone.
Cool me with your calculations
Cut me with your skilled scalpel
Explore me with your fine tuned fingertips
Then I’ll release you from being the reluctant apprentice
And, in recovery, I’ll say to my heart “Rave on!”
To dance naked in the rain.

The copyright of this post belongs to Sharon Mchale

Spells

She’s lost her teeth again.
‘She is my sister-in-law, you know, my future sister-in-law’, speaking firmly, insistently to nobody, or everybody, or the window, wall or cooker. I have stopped trying to work it out, I was as selfish as a child wanting to run out and play in the sunshine with my marbles. Her behaviour, challenging, robbing me of every freedom. Even putting out the washing was a relief from this monotony.

‘And he, he is a gipsy prince, you know…….’ Of course he is, the bastard. Feel again my shock. They’d only been but two farms north – seven miles? Gipsy prince, my water…….. I’m wiping the glasses of dust – the damp tea towel wrung through my hands – maybe he’ll see me – instead of how old she has become, sucking in her lips and chewing on nothing. The real gipsy, the wanderer, my sister, my dark, slim, catlike sister, Grainne, she who has run off, leaving me the responsibility, the work. That cat, she goes away with the gipsies, and now her friend, her Man Friend is back, and looking for her, and her gone, while he sniffs around, the loveless shite. My heart is ready. My mind is still.

He may come tonight. All men need food. The weather will change, later it will be a night such as only drunks would go out, and opening the door, with the lintels dripping……. Yes, he might be made to stay……
‘Might we persuade him to stay, Aunty?’
She unwraps the thin paper…..
There may be a poisoning……

‘The cat…….’ She sucks again, her craggy skinny lips into her mouth and chews….. ‘You will need the cat………’ and for a moment her eyes meet mine and she is here, really here………the cloying jasmine scent of her hangs as it used to in the smoky air of our kitchen.
‘For Grainne’ our minds say together, and in a gently inaccurate replication of her old spells she begins to chant
‘Tea…. coffee…. cocktails…. jam………..’

The copyright of this post belongs to Fran MacHardy

Pantoum

Bound on a Bumper Car Sea

Where the sand meets the sea's new horizons

The steam billows forth its curse.

A dogma of godliness rolls by

Dreaming it all in reverse.

The steam billows forth its curse

“What kind of fools are you two,

Dreaming it all in reverse,

Scrubbing at constellations true?”

“What kind of fools are you two

Wading into moonlit seas,

Scrubbing at constellations true?

A uniqueness of blemishes, a Venus?"

Wading into moonlit seas

They met at a pumpkin spice fairground.

A uniqueness of blemishes, A Venus

And her pirate aficionado run aground.

They met at a pumpkin spice fairground

Bound on a bumper car sea

And her pirate aficianado run aground,

He bade her, "Come, Sail with me."

Bound on a bumper car sea

The salt of promise entwined them.

He bade her, "Come, sail with me

Through this land of fish and men."

The salt of promise entwined them.

The bloated goldfish found them.

Through this land of fish and men,

Through a night of fine food to bind them.

The bloated goldfish found them

And sat they with sunflowers gold

Through a night of fine food to bind them

They did banish their solitary cold.

And sat they with sunflowers gold'

With crisp bread and seafood delight

They did banish their solitary cold

With passion fruit brulee tonight.

With crisp bread and seafood delight

She sat and drank in his flavours.

With passion fruit brulee tonight

All her constellations were savoured.

She sat and drank in his flavours,

They sailed to new lands, on and on.

All her constellations were savoured

Where the sand meets the sea’s new horizon

The copyright of this post belongs to Holly Khan