Flocks of seagull’s dive with mighty beaks
Yawing open, tongues whipping.
I run, only finding corridors of empty doors
And faceless people
With tears where eyes
Should
Be.
I look down at the blood where if cascades
Down my legs,
With clots, chunks of liver.
A baby is screaming in my arms
Its mouth open
But filled
With
Hot tar
Melting its face away.
Until the child is just molten wax
Dripping down me,
Hardening onto a sea of blood.
I walk away with Daddy Longlegs.
His taps singing, a knife on crystal.
So, we toast the admiral
In his tricorn
Hat.
Who looks at me like I’m nothing?
I feel the sweat burn my brow
And slip between my breasts.
A bald man sucks my nipple
I swat him away
And keep
Walking.
Naked.
Jane Langan’s poems were published in the anthology, Footprints and Echoes, shortlisted in the Lockdown Haiku competition with Fish Publishing, and had a special mention from The Welsh Poetry Competition. She was longlisted in the Mairtin Crawford Awards. Jane just completed an MA in Creative Writing. Jane’s Blog: http://howilikemycoffee.blogspot.com/
The Cabinet of Heed 