Alan Finlay


A fear of misfortune

The weeping shell of onion skin
burns in my chest.

A fear of misfortune
undoes my shirt. I am a spade heading for dirt.

Earth be my shell
as i hide in your tumour.

Red road, your distant shadow
that comes to rest on this house.

Gnome of cloud
your changes
are fortunes.

Table of light
in your internal ear,
a child hiding under a tablecloth

waits for your invitation.



of memory, warthog
of truth
that goes about battering leaves.

deep shit,

The feeling arrives
on your
coddled in white linen.

You're in deep shit; later
you close
the doors the corridors
you close the emergency exits

The room's waters rise
cover your ears, with that childish feeling.


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