Bewildering Stories

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Three poems

by John Grey

Corpus Delecti

Your flesh
opened up
like a flower,
hyacinth petals
preening in a lake
of your blood.
If only you had
lived to see this

Scenes from the Rented Cottage

rotting rope
rubs against worms
that necklace her throat

knees kick down
the stairs
like dead fruit
falling from trees

in dark cellars,
shovels displace
remembered autumns,
smother them
in mud silence

in a rocking chair,
a pleased,
disfigured mouth
robs the air
of its oxygen

Forest Rapture

doesn't uproot
a thread of
your reflection,
this gentle vibration
of sinking flesh

not like the city
where her screams
swallowed a city whole,
stole the thrill
of your disposal
of the body

out here,
the pines, the oaks,
embrace the life
in death

as you do
floating eyes,
the gentle waltz
of blood on water

Copyright © 2002 by John Grey