by LUCY WINROW
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Feathers contort In spinning skies Long white fingers Air themselves Greased yellow and flicked From a car bonnet Into a heart-stopping arc Back to earth with a Slack bang like a bucket Dropped down a well The moist tarmac slap Slops the belly open Flowering To a glossy bulbous red Up close the mechanics Of the body divide Before frenzied eyes Annular days tighten Time stretching skin Taut across its racks Bloating body ink to grey Shattered quills splinter Heavy rubber Hollowed out sad sack Fading under tyre pressure Perfecting an imprint Of petrified life. |
Lucy Winrow has a PhD in the poetry of Selima Hill and teaches poetry part-time at Salford University, UK; her research interests include embarrassment, shame, guilt and violence. She has had poems published in anthologies and journals in the UK and America including Popshot, Orbis, Ariadne's Thread and Puppywolf's anthologies The Best of Manchester Poets Vol 2 and Vol 3. Lucy's poem Petals appears in the June 2014 issue of HelloHorror.
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