After it was over, a speckled bird
hatched between my breasts; spread its bloodwet
wings on the bed; brushed my bare thighs . . .
Sweat siezed my pores. Cottonsoft, the dark purred
clawdeep in me. I lay with ivies
vining around my head, tiger lily
tales in my ears, fingers needling air
like lace. Lovers traced my cheeks with care.
Sharp, I heard painted saints beckon me
from Bruges’ Basilica. “Our Lady…”
I tried to pray but only moans & shrieks
escaped. I felt myself still & freeze.
Then, the man trussed me by the feet;
kissed me, called me his lorikeet.
Skendha Singh completed her Masters in Writing Practice & Study from the University of Dundee. Myth & history are lasting preoccupations. She also loves animation and superhero films.
“The poem was written as a response to an assignment on Fair Field: How to Write Like a Medieval. The Poetry School course helped fire new synapses in my brain, and hence this new response to the lively and layered Wife of Bath.”
Love it. Well written and it reads nicely, with great feeling.
Thank you 🙂