Poetry / Poets / Writers / Writing

Poetry by Marianne L Daniels

Hung-over in the Pompidou

I wished for the soft paper
of a fake moon

as we sat in the hollow
of a felt tipped wall –

they did this all for us to remind us of the night before
when we drank the streets dry of rain

and you mapped the lens
of your camera to light,

all trickling gold giddy storms of love
in the furious scribble of an absinthe shot.

Now you take photographs
from the fourth floor

as I lean my back into the glass;
a pouring of jewels that colour the city

where bright opioids
fall through your silhouette.

There there, the creatures
of dreams soothe,

tired gargoyles whistling
sleep tunes from Notre Dame.

They balance here precariously
until we take our night cap.


thumb print
in the light
where the sun turns like
melting sugar

and worn around
your neck,

a press of sand
an eye
that watches the sea
through a
cabochon of oil.

The Gulls

I am dreaming of the gulls
in their spidery nests
their shrewd yellow beaks
like gorse.
They wait for backs to be turned
greedy for neighbouring eggs;
pterodactyl eyes
where my fingers clutch the rocks.


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