Lambs – Isobel McHattie

December 7, 2023

AS THE CANNON SEES IT

you too
can catch a piece of history
hurtling toward the mean
green horizon

there isn’t any chest pain
in the cypher
but every few misdirections
something boils over

the judge who swims with snakes in his chambers
surfaces to wink at you

“we provide opportunities
to change your mind”

 

CURTAINS

operatives of the undead bird descend upon the hamlet
paint eyes on each opposing door and radically depersonalize
back home they show french pictures to their nephews
debts both foreign and domestic
fill all the polka dot dresses
like starlings with teeth

 

THE ONLY FRIEND YOU’LL EVER HAVE

blind parasites born in the bowels of larger parasites
scour the pasture for biometric data
come morning
a tape starts
and the farmer trudges out
to count his mangled lambs

 

AUTHENTIC RELATIONS

the phlox in that polished post-war whiskey bottle
is growing mold

forms pupating in the cistern
are swelling ominously

sentiments got left out uncovered
on the kitchen counter overnight

and turned
to a coral coagulate
so salty and thick
a person could write their name in it