Writings & Poems
Virgin and child
our honeymoon’s just us,
limbless electricity, just torsos
feasting on each other’s porcelain nipples, bullseyes
brushed with brittle lightning branches,
promethean orphans compulsively retracing their route
into the holy mountain
a fretwork of stray flares and bullets
fall from the sky like orgiastic mutterings
of vulture prayers
stolen on a dare from a gold leafed Byzantine icon,
a Virgin and child, two virgins, watching the bruised storm
change colours