Three poems by Dave Migman

Spiral
 
the rock
is gone
the ground
swept
clean under.
 
the wait
is long
the clock
sweeps slowly
 
around our faces.

– – – – – – – – –



Homage to Mountain
 
sickle back mountain white bone
red flesh parting snaggletooth holly
and olive hair
 
shallow roots fasten eroding boulders
in silence across your stone brow
solitude amongst the smell of thyme
and the fox who leaves
the fragrance of his passing
 
cavern worn eyes
blinded by the turning millennia
mountain face to god-home
of ancients. Scar turned flesh storm tasted
winds have smothered, rains eroded
your cataracts hold fast
 
no longer does it feel
fire throb through cavernous
arteries reach deep under
rooted bastion of his face
god-home rock brow
I walk your bitten profile
my feet are sure.
 

– – – – – – – – –



The touch of a∑

Last night the tent
shivered
sighed
and I moaned
in sweet dream
locked
forgotten faces
while she snored
beside me.
I awoke
loins
slick
shifting uncomfortably
shamed for a moment
by the memory
of the dream.
 
 
• Dave Migman is a stone carver from Scotland. His work has been published in numerous poetry zines in the UK and his short stories appear sporadically on-line.

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