A poem by GEORGIE HURST.
Sleep, pretty sleep that falls,
drifts from my eyes into
a warm lake of
alkahest,
an intrusion to the brain, the same
wide access through which
the solvent seeps in,
dissolves
me. I am supine, passive to it. Do not
find me in the grounds, or in the alley,
or in the places you once knew
me.
Find me here, churning my thoughts
as they mutate into pulp and acid.
Nigredo, my mind, Albedo, my
skin,
Citrinitas, my hair, Rubedo, my
love. In bed I can hear the
process persisting, red
hot
irons goring into my skin. Manganese
here I am. Submerged and aching
for it—caress me, make me
perfect.
CategoriesGeorgie Hurst
