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14th Anniversary Edition, Live Encounters Poetry & Writing Volume Five Nov-Dec 2023.
Wetlands, poems by Scott-Patrick Mitchell.
a murmuration of ear
crest & creak, frog-speak
a throat opening to bubble
croak, sonorous: cicada
crescendo as season melts
into mewl & hoot of unseen
owl-kin, speaking echo
to locate meal, silent slip
a yowl to fold night & wing
as we sing, somnolent
& sweating in the heat
which is an orchestra
of its own as we sit
on the edge, listening
hear is a meditation
Into the wet laying work, succumb.
Our bodies brush. Tongues of paint.
Cover me in covet, sigil, paint.
An omen: you scry from me a future.
What body do we build together? Future
stock, investment housed in linen. Count
on me to hold on to you, for we count
as we shepherd this bed with little deaths.
Let us live this out, listen for our deaths
together. How love is an infinite cusp
but we are still far from it. Bravado a cusp
to expunge into the other. Remember
this as age spots our skin. Remember:
into the wet laying work, succumb.
is a strange animal
long-looker at the small
thinker who tinkers with lures as if preparing fishing lines
beast who wrestles with a cage of words
scientist who would rather grow feather or fur
daydream cloud buster
walks so the angels can talk clearer
sometimes-cat curled around a tome
othertimes-avian with book nest
always on the prowl for the next great sliver to be caught in their jaw
pro-procrastinator and wind stitcher
elegant child of the difficult space
born lungs first, reciting
glimmer of the toad, the stool, the microbial
small elephant who is convinced the plume can make them fly
intrepid introvert, unless a microphone blooms beneath the staged lights
chaos compendium, expect when laying on the page, dressed in black ink, white space
do not feed them lest they follow you home
© Scott-Patrick Mitchell