
Alight in the South Field
Photo by Roman Denisenko alight in the south field where the sky is bigger than you knew
Blueberry Poem #1
Skeleton matches
Striking flintlock pistols from the
Old West of a nation that itself is a
New West.
I don’t remember what you said.
I don’t remember anything they told me…
Only the gasp of the warm, clean sun – split in two…
Jumping spiders…
Iris audience in front;
Blueberries, stepping back.
Blueberry Poem #2
The clam-digger, blueberry raker,
the lobsterman – bending down to grab
nutrients from
the cold Atlantic green / white waves, white
water; white mouth – dead daughter.
Scoliosis – breaking for self and other.
I’d bend over backwards!”
More pain going forward – in future… staring at the ground
till you walk into traffic…
Arched back – eyeing the sky,
how you love it.
***
Smashed so many fireflies in a jar;
Smashed it on the ground!
Exploding gold and creeping legs –
Stitch you up with lacewing flies.
***
Electrolysis grin
Hair sprouting behind my eyes
***
Gnawing
***
Grabbing jawbones you said
Disappear!
I ran to the dock /
my feet hit the sea
flying dreaming tumbling /
this hell, childhood …
I don’t think we have the same conception of space
I don’t think we understand anything …
I’ll die here.
Running / chewing metal instead of blood
Past cars /
City blue
Panic streaming through
everywhere everything everyone
***
Crawling
Black flies in my nose
Huffing delight
Insanity … shambles / disgorging
There’s scorn inside my heart
It wiggles … like flesh;
carpets my mouth…
Frail moon tongue.
Daggers pierce what can’t be sewn.
***
Wind is blowing now,
shame —
Your head on a fucking post.
***
THOMAS HISCOCK is a writer and musician from Falmouth, Maine. Inspired by his coastal home, Buddhist faith, and medical duress – Thomas hopes to turn tragedy into majesty, capturing dark stories in a gilded cage. A fearless young writer, Thomas’s work has been published in newspapers, magazines, blogs, zines, newsletters, websites, anthologies, and more.

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