Wild at Heart and Weird on Top
The dime store king
slings snakeskin jacket
over black tee and jeans.
Switchblade eyes with
nothing in mind but
immoral purposes
he bashes in Bobby’s brains
takes a bite of peach
from his juicy munchkin.
Getting her hotter than
Georgia asphalt, he says,
this here jacket represents
a symbol of my individuality
my belief in personal freedom.
On the edge of a blazing
highway, he flails and thrashes
against hitmen, witches, jail,
then tenderly sings a love song
to Lula and the boy kid,
floating high on the heat
haze above Emerald City.
In Henry’s Room
There is no sound, other than the hiss and creak of a straining radiator. He sits on the edge of the bed – starched sheets, brass headboard, the tick inside his head growing louder and louder. No chat, no laughter. Just a room with a view of a brick wall. He sits and stares. A bare lightbulb swings from a cord. A mass of lichen and moss gathers on top of a chest. Within a picture frame an atomic bomb explodes. He opens a drawer, finds a saucepan of cold water, into which he drops a penny and makes a wish. He takes out a photograph of a girl; head torn from body. Hiss. Creak. Tick. Scratch.
A gramophone needle
plays music
from a silent movie.
Jane Salmons lives in Shropshire in the UK. She has published a poetry collection, The Quiet Spy (Pindrop Press, 2022) and a poetry pamphlet, The Bridge (Offa’s Press, 2024), alongside numerous flash and microfiction stories. Jane’s writing has been shortlisted for the Bath Flash Fiction Award and nominated for Best Microfiction, Best Small Fictions and Best of the Net. She won the Pokrass Prize at the Flash Fiction Festival. Find out more at her website: https://www.janesalmonspoetry.co.uk
No comments:
Post a Comment