When the soldier’s shadow passed over our twinned bodies
like an unfocused ghost in its lament
I felt a premonition
where the desert of lapwings circling thirty-one wedding dresses
was a portent in the foreground
Whilst the sweat from Raphael’s fingers remains unlicked upon my fingers
we had separated only seconds before, like a wind
from the noose in the palms that has just kissed his neck
I felt the bird’s choral auger: I followed a lace shawl slither off
I saw it break down
I saw it walk down
I saw it decompose and rot
down the wind’s old familiar aisle and right into the sea
Excerpt taken from Wedding Beasts.
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