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Anaesthetised There is a ghoulish moan I see it at a strange distance Lying on the bed She claws at the devil’s caress Hot sheets strangling her limbs Satan she imagines Her fingers scrape at the stream She will haul her sleepy weight Onto the coolness of sense The flow catches her. She wails At the fluid paw upon her feet Kicking off the hoof She is silent as this screen And twitches at the flicker trail That crosses her eyes Her body disowns its mind When her voice tries to call it back Something snaps A cool finger grasps linen Shaking the dark. Her mouth whistles Enemies away and yet She can’t net those faint Swimming thoughts which taste sharply Like colours I can't see © David Incoll 2001 |
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Copyright by David Incoll 2001 |