THE FOLLOWING POEM WAS SELECTED IN WINGWORD POETRY PRIZE 2023 LONGLIST.
Climbing up the neck
and hanging by the edge of my skull,
a picture draws in close to pierce
right through the jaw.
Feeding on the subconscious,
unconscious as ever on nights
stacked with inevitable remorse;
invisible apparitions
of shame move around the room,
grinning with their hands and feet.
Caressing my sinuses and scalp,
one reassures me of the presence
of subtle, stinging vacuums
while two cover my feet
with warm sweat, tender feathers.
Another half a score hold on to each
of my fingers and point towards the roof.
So do I, with a cold nose.
Morning arrives and I know not
of my time of death last night.
Head buries itself inside a blanket
and feet dangle over the bed
as my arms twirl and knot beneath me.
I am here, I am awake.