Poems by Gill Hands (xposted in [livejournal.com profile] greatpoets)

Nov. 11th, 2005 10:32 am
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Sharp Enemy

You were nettles and brambles
surrounded by thorns.
Surprisingly your kiss
was a sweet briar fruit.

(Internet Love Slut, Wild Women Press, 2004)


Dirty Mud Slut

I am the element I sleep on,
under my nails,
the tip of my toes,
welding pink rosebuds to my head.

Let Kate Moss boast skanky chic;
I did it bigger and dirtier.


Fairy Wings

Everyone wears them
with glittery dresses
and wellies,
all day,
even men.
I wave my wand and wish for someone’s
hair to put bunches in.


Wishes Come True

A pixie boy falls from an oak tree
into my lap.
His pinpoint pupils widen
in soft full moon.

I’m tempted to twine his hair through my fingers
but let him escape to play djembe.



Glamour…

on stage.
In wellies.

We all wear wellies,
even Mango in his glittery dress and curls.

Except Rachel Pantechnicon
who arrives pristine,
Venus on a half shell,
tights, court shoes,
full librarian’s outfit.

I hang around his tent
waiting for signs of transformation.



Making Coffee for Carol Ann Duffy

with Dreadlock Alien
in a tent.
Life may not get any stranger than this
but I hope it does.

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