Desperate Tactics

Desperate Tactics

After the lightning is gone, and the bedroom floor is strewn with dead butterflies, there is nothing to pray to but a sexy corpse dressed in television static. I look straight up to see our love song crucified on the ceiling of Creation. Ice chips have formed in the long spinal groove of your creamy back. I wonder if I can remember to breathe in between the crushing blue waves until the storm has passed. Then, come the ninja butchers whose stealthy questions could cleave the magic from starlight in one teardrop stroke. They’ll never get to me. Savage miracles, cloaked in dragon scale armor and baptized in an ancient resolve, stand on the rocky shore of my soul, ready to be destroyed in the name of an unborn child. I pull you tight to my chest and will my fondest dreams into your wicked slumber. Besides, mathematical odds have no place in my poetry.

Reviews

[Kerry O'Connor]

Sooo many deliciously sensual lines juxtaposed with out of control anxiety.
I love the dead butterflies and the 'long spinal groove of your creamy back' and then we're hit with ninja butchers, dragon scale armour and a rocky shoreline of soul.
That last line is fabulous.