Monday, October 14, 2019

Two Poems by Miggy Angel

The Portal

Day, and its falling through
itself. Trailing the legion particles
of morning, uncountable

tentacles of noontime. London,
transmutation in moon-blue.
Stone transistor broadcasting

alchemical spells, and you
its loyal receptacle. Curriculum
of metropolitan delirium

in bruise-hue at hound hour.
Studious, observe in abeyance
this detritus syllabus. Pupil

with pupils ablaze, kindling
like tulips. Death and its
diaphanous trick. From the vault

came a voice, no mouth. Spoken
lexicon of light. Sapphire
hieroglyphs, phosphorous

hexagons crown conurbation
in cyan. Eyes, opals.
Portals, open. Listen.


Sleep is a pristine state. Hypodermic lamb
leaping the gate of the skin. Love
is a phantom limb, always
itching. The tenements attuned

our antennae to the testimonies
of the territory. Borough was a bow
for the arrow of childhood.
No gauze for the lost cause

of your days. Saliva mirrors
quicksilver. When you open the home
of torso, or so they say, organs
resemble almonds adorning

the abattoir floor. Past ultraviolet
walk far enough into darkness, until
your body is enveloped in night, and
          you will never be photographed again. 

Miggy Angel is the author of the poetry collections Grime Kerbstone Psalms, published by Celandor Books - Extreme Violets, published by Hi Vis Press - and Boy, Bestiary forthcoming from Ice Floe Press in Autumn 2019. Miggy is the editor and founder of Burning House Press. 

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