Category: Poetry

I’m alive to the anatomy of a starfish-weedtilting in the grass:I can’t say exactly how being alive works,how suddenly all of one’s cells collectto find a friend in the anatomies…

I. The tumble you were pestered out of me.rose bramble, thorns and pink hornsI had saved from the grotto by the mangrovewhere the intertidal prawnswaited for you,have simplified into a…