imperium of decay...

a web of spirits

is whip-stitched

atop

this web of mortal coils 

and these two surfaces

knitted together

form a baffle

where selective 

blindness builds

parting knowledge 

from the knower

and enabling us

to tear away

at everything

that is not us

as well as
everything   

that is 

until the whole quilt

becomes a crazed 

and tattered shambles

neither covering 

nor comforting 

an infinity no ones…

lucy meskill

a dream...

I am  

in a brightly 

lit chamber

surrounded by 

a tyranny of doors

which I must 

in a frenzy 

maintain

their substance 

is flimsy

and their locks 

don’t work

yet still

I check them

unceasingly

in a fever

while just 

outside

of my walls

and windows

the veil

of cool night 

is descending

with grace

and lightly

fragrant

moon flowers 

are opening 

unafraid

into darkness…

lucy meskill

photo credit: judith meskill

centrifugal brew...

forward-swings only

up and over the top

all of the back-swings

got used up early 

purchased cheaply 

in our tender fleeting youth,

advancing momentum 

is all that is on offer now

with its bracing

wind in the face

blood to the brain

scalp-tingling logic,

and those quiet foot in sand

pebble and dust kicking moments

so few and far between now spill

like tender little ice-cubes

a'tumbling and a'swirling

before melting too quickly 

into hot and deeply scented tea…

lucy meskill

interstice...

everything waits

all at once

everything goes

all at once

the page stands

a bowed tidal wave 

in the middle of a turn

knowledge spilling

down both sides

words get stuck

under our skin

sand is impossible

to get out of shoes

we surrender

or not

and fully open

as bees fly in

and out...

lucy meskill

photo credit: judith meskill

aspic...

cells 

between the floorboards

from a hundred years ago

still hum tuned to a distant note

remnants 

line the bottom of a drawer

where new junk is cradled

gently in the arms of old junk

years

go by and here we are

in the very same interval

wearing new underwear

moments

do all of the heavy lifting

then retire below stairs

to serve and sup together

surety

could fill the flat surfaces

of a yellow six-sided pencil

with plenty of room to spare

love

lines the plain black hat

from which every magic rabbit 

we never deserved is pulled 

we

that which flutters slowly

leaf-like towards the scented soil

are the mattress of someone else's 

tomorrow

lucy meskill

couture...

pull a thread
and mountains
and valleys
populate
the fabric
of a new dress
where riverbeds
replete with tears
fill a saline ocean
in the pucker of a seam
teeming with fish
as seaweeds
and corals
below the scent of
bergamot
warming at the neck
pulse...

lucy meskill

photo credit: judith meskill

trip...

clatter
utter
scatter
sputter
milk
and lightning bugs
the galaxy
via lactea
in two flumes
spiraling
as god fell...

lucy meskill

photo credit: judith meskill