Marie-Louise Eyres
“Brood X”
Each insect turns a fraction on its axis, a cocooned child shifting in a half-sleep,
oblivious beyond cool mud to flames of wildfires as they streak across the hills
of Paradise.
oblivious beyond cool mud to flames of wildfires as they streak across the hills
of Paradise.
“In another time, in another place,” “The walking fish” and “Under the bone”
My skull is thin as twice an ostrich egg,
a finite orb. But buried dark and thick
a universe of tiny stars sits cheek
by jowl beside grey matter, like blinking
fireflies in the branches of a pine tree
after dusk. This is no special magic.
a finite orb. But buried dark and thick
a universe of tiny stars sits cheek
by jowl beside grey matter, like blinking
fireflies in the branches of a pine tree
after dusk. This is no special magic.