The Strait of Kerch
“There’s been a crime here!”
“Cry me a river…”
By David R J Sealey
an endless chasm yawns below me,
a bright yellow platform draws me in,
into a geared mechanism, a chain
to an emerald island suspended in the sky.
hop down onto floating stone blocks
the pull, drags me on to a gold coin
glimmers and vanishes in my wake,
into a star shaped halo, and away.
both feet first through fungal skull,
in a corpse that disappears and crudely
crushing sentient beings underfoot and
before jumping up and away, off the wall.
out of a ragged hole above the clouds,
that they may hold my weight then
above the horizon; a ship appears,
of the blue skies making haste my way.
cannonballs tear towards me with a grin
I find a flower that fans flames at my whim
my jump and catching, I slide down the mast
terrible balls that burn through decking boards.
the great ship tumbles towards the ground
to freeze as I catch sight of a rooftop and leap
I slide down a green drainpipe, dropping through the
into the boudoir of a scholarly mushroom.
by David R J Sealey
Slumbering, peaceful, a leg sticks out,
a foot upturned to reveal a sole
soft and clean, unblemished,
begging to be devoured…
Great tangled webs of drool dangle down
to drown flies flitting amidst fetid strands
and touch, at last, the virgin flesh
that flickers quickly back beneath covers
subconsciously protecting it’s dignity,
subcutaneously shivering the threat
watching silently over the bed sheets
longing to taste what lays beneath.
A sliver of light slides slight over shades
illuminating pop posters a ghastly glow;
a shape shifts slowly, lit in the twilight,
diffuse as a storm cloud lost in the night
arched over the bedstead ready to strike,
before a flash of teeth fit for a shark bite
and gnash madly together, a vulgar display,
that rends apart nothing but thin black air…
Where did they go?
WHERE DID THEY GO?
Under the stars,
under the stairs,
It tore through the hallways,
it sniffed at the study,
it clattered the saucepans,
and shattered the chairs,
it tapped at the windows
and slammed at the doors,
it left trails on the carpets
like an army of slugs,
it didn’t find us
tucked up in the cupboard
praying for dawn
before tip-toeing barefoot
out onto the lawn.