the photo in the glass

this room is propaganda
i could leave anytime
but i have someone who cares for me

she comes when iím hungry
or horny
brings turnips cooked in milk
pumpkin seeds and a towel
stiff as the light under the door

she doesnít have a name
or elbows and her ankles are moonstone
but since i have known her
the bonsai has thawed
my palpitations have stopped
and i am no longer afraid
of the photo in the glass

leave a box of salt

skip pass the children
in the giantís mouth
the playground is sinking
assume our flesh
before the mermaid

if winterís minute hand
hurries the fish up stream
leave a box of salt
under your bed
there are enough drops on my lips
for one more kiss

Michael Riley's poems have appeared or are set to appear in Niederngasse,
Sidereality, Stylus Poetry Journal, Going Down Swinging, Pendulum, The Rose
& Thorn, Lily, LiNQ, Muse Apprentice Guild, Liquid Muse, Tryst, Ink Mag,
Social Alternatives, Mind Caviar and many other fine publications. He lives
in Melbourne, Australia.

© 2005 Underground Voices