Inheritance

Guarding like a totem, as my remnant,
His highlander-bottle keeps watch:
The paternal inheritance:
The whiskey-hollow harmonic echoes

From the neck of a dry riverbed.
But the bottle-man stands tall, peripherally, on the shelf;
A blind gaze, as solemn as one last breath.
He attracts dust while his old notes nestle

In the ears of the dead, captured
Only in the memory of ashes,
So that together they remember, pulseless:
The booming, stubbled laughter, the gulping thirst.

He watches it lurk in the veins.
The path wood-carved in the family tree
To be repeated like a shared prophecy –
My birthmark from the first schism.

Only rose-falls close the lifelong call.
Too soon we dull with Sunday bells tolling
To decay with our unshakeable faults,
Bearing them like gifts for an afterlife.

Hawk

Nothing owns the air like this hawk
Before this here kill. He commands the air
Like a sovereign to a subject.
The cloud hunter, outstretched

Feathered fingers holding back rotations.
He waits for the death moment –
No thunderclap, an ominous cloud
Of silhouette congealing above

Carefully hung from the sky,
Blowing in the breeze like washing.
This is his birthright.
He is honed by a million egg-cracks.

A hovering executioner;
A sprawling of God.
Steady as a surgeon’s hand,
Shadowing death like a drone.

He surveys his surroundings,
Readying his eye like a strongman’s muscle,
And prepares to conclude life
And roll away the world in revolutions.

He toys with the perfect kill.
The evening is alive with anticipation.
The heavens breathe in.
Seconds pass like tremors

While he makes us all wait,
Bobbing and brooding
On the sky’s surface like oil –
A black buoy.

He holds my gaze like a prey,
Ricochets against the wind
Like the swing of a hammer,
And then plummets only to make the skyline fall.


This poem recently arose after travelling through France when stood by the car during a petrol pit-stop, I saw a bird of prey (I believe it was a hawk, although I’m not completely sure) seemingly levitating out above a field in the near-distance while hunting. It was quite something: motionless. It could have been hung from the clouds. It was probably quite an ordinary sight, however the image of that bird, stuck on the sky, also stuck with me – following me over the next few days like the predator that it was.

Consequently I tried to capture the suspense in that moment, the tension in that air of sky, the metaphors that lurked within, and the power of that hawk as it controlled the air – it became, unavoidably, my own Hughes ‘Hawk Roosting’.

Enjoy the poetry, and don’t forget to like and follow for more new poetry every Friday.

Luca

Revelations

A blue dawn, summering storm
Wakes you with a clatter
Of colliding clouds and sideways rain.
But then you look down
And see her,
In a dream sanctuary

Between the sighs and the sunrise.
And suddenly, sleepily
Your legs, arms, fingers,
Thoughts are intertwined
In the disappearing night;
Coiled around each other
Like loved-up snakes

While she continues to be
Safe and self-contained.
Oblivious. Twitching subconscious
Words on the cusp of her lips.
Tired eyes tightly shut
Like two imprinted, inky little stamps.

You are not affecting
And she recuperates
In the night like a deprivation chamber;
Inhabiting parallels.
You keep watch like a guard dog.

Her hair shields her face
From you
As a separation,
Like a wall of palms,
And she becomes more miscellaneous
The more you look.
It could be someone else

Again. Bury the feelings
Deep like a guilty bone.
You smell the morning breath
Brewing in her cauldron mouth,
Watch her limbs out-stretched
Like a content child;

She is often beautiful.
You decide to retry sleep
And redemption,
Covering your bodies
Under the ghost-thin sheet,
Laid dead like pharaohs,
Waiting for the inevitable alarm

To unveil you.
With your heavy
Hands, you hold her
Close like an undeserved gift,
Like something that hasn’t been broken.

Renaissance

You debut a smile.
The first time that the muscle-balls
Dormant at the tip of your cheekbones
Ever leapt out so proudly into the world

And I marvel as I take you
To the spasm of a diaphragm
And the wringing of gut;
The place of popping faces
And rosy protestations

Where your neck wrings with escaping laughter
And your hair writhes with joy
And your eyes burst with happy tears.
We mirror a smile like replicas.

Hours subside with the reddening,
Until finally we wander out
To our new-birth Earth,
Kicking with baptism.

He was Hers

He was hers and his eye sockets throbbed
Like two syncopated hearts.

She took him in, biting into the soft.
Perfectly she captured his body.

She tasted him, she pressed him.
This was an interrogation.

He was held in the black without a lamp-lawyer
And he blinked to no effect.

The deeper dark of her open ‘O’ searched for answers,
So she sunk down and through him like an anchor.

The wake of her died above.
She wrapped him in sensation.

He filled her completely
And spluttered animal moans to hold her attention.

She found honesty
In the sounds tumbling

From his tongue.
She wanted him to know

That she shared no reminders.
Sometimes she loved him.

Then, just for her, he burst like a ripe balloon
And shattered every night into dawns.

Underwater

I caught you once, trying to dissolve.
The water cupping you with candlelight
And the flames flickering incantations –
You punctured a quiet ring of shadows
As a dwindling in the dark.

You had sunk yourself in the bathtub
Trying to escape, kicking below the surface
And shaping the sinless fluid around you
As your last compromise: an urban night-lake.
You bathed between the porcelain lips
And bubbled for rebirth.

The surface tightened above
Until your lid on the world was taut
And you were sealed away.
And then you pushed, towards breath’s edge.
Immersed in a warm vat of underworld,
Disappearing into pale ripples
With your eyes closed.
I watched your hair wave goodbyes

While the tiles echoed like sirens.
I stood there, almost alone
In that airlock of cascading waterdrops,
Scrutinised by splintering futures
As condensation dripped down the walls
Like freely abseiling wet spiders
With refracted hyena eyes.
Each enclosing droplet, a tear
Brimming with imperatives.

You needed me to embody saviours
With my trembling hands –
But you were womb-smothered,
Submerged, dulling heartbeats, lost
Weeping naked-open from your wrists
And my body was a still purgatory,
Hearing the muted thuds reverberating upwards

While you waited; underwater, urging
For me to become the same shade of void
So I could join you in the below
And we could dissolve and emerge together.