Sean Cunningham: Two Poems

Toxin

You dead egg.
You black-winged god
of pre-history. My bones
rattle their dusty marrow
whenever I set foot
upon one of your spectral steps.
Grease-fuelled
stars fly away
in terror. Knot-filled
friendships tear in two.
You cold penny.
A font lies
outside. My decorative crypt
is made
          of clay.

Water

In my garden, I stumbled
through overgrown dahlias
where a sick musk
hung, unforgiving, as the sun
forbid
me
slake
my dusty, arid tongue.

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