Poetry- by Fiona Perry.


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Now I have the puddle
Wax of a thousand
Blessed candles burnt

In a kitchen shrine
Your last upright
Embrace cushioning me

Comforts to conjure
No more sinewy
Morphine cries or

Muted transmissions
Of constant sorrow
Just essence

Of the thing
Crystalline like the
Scent of jasmine

Tea buds unfurling
In a cup.


Absorbent baby blues scan flock
wallpaper, cot bars, honeycombed
crochet with metronomic flickers
of exploration. A...


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