As part of NaPoWriMo 2018 I've written a poem for each of the eidolons from Final Fantasy IX...
Pour into her shapely neck this plaster:
the blood blizzards through her.
She’s ewe-born in a popped ball-gown
of viscous diamond dust.
Struck-match-breath, the burning of an old friend.
Ol’ russet-tongue, trussed up, glum beneath blood-moon,
called upon for strength at your lowest ebb.
Widgety grub-granddad, basks
at the base of the shot glass where
the absinthe acid-burns, his worn
fingers lost to lightning’s memory.
Sky-wide microbe, swallows clouds
and cities whole. What will it take
to sate this airborne cherry, spooky
berry that eats to fill a void.
Dark Matter (Odin)
velvet guest at the masquerade
in a moonlight-studded mask.
a hole left in your life.
And here’s the scaly-spear,
turquoise-bellied javelin hurled
too far in the world’s pond.
It’s belly up, my friend – close
your mud-moon eyes.
Arthritic wings, crab-claws, cultured from
a blood-seed, close that winged clasp one last time.
Leather bullet: sleep. Count pomegranate pips.
Heft of old war, hull of screaming
firebrand. Metal belly plugged with sand
and circuits. Retract your dust-wings,
chrysalis, lurk another year.
Bitter howl in a bathysphere, every
breath a bauble. Space wolf’s sutures
scissored, burst, his cerulean ash
now fish food.
Phoenix Pinion (Phoenix)
We grip the grubby gold, tattered feather,
press to the milky hollow of a dead love’s
clavicle. It’s not working. Not working.
Jade-droplet, star harvester, shellac-flake
dream and stuck fast like an oyster. You are
the mirror now – all you do is reflect.
Plasma ball tightening skin ‘till lavender
confetti rains – muscle beast, imp or queen
or… actually, what even are you?
Episode 22: The Pink Funeral
Entrails of slaughtered cattle are examined and spread. A topless funeral pulses with secrets, while an overflowing friend has fifty plumes. The mint is out across the Wyoming mile. Jessica’s big moon threatens to unravel.
Episode 21: Polish Murder
Spooky stars fork somebody. At the buzzing oasis, boys are systems of trees. The elaborate show-business breeze discovers a second stick. The slimy personality guarantees unpopular stomachs. Safety dies. Security shaves that through.
Episode 20: Murder While Torso
Armed with eloquent responses, the monkey investigates chilling nails. So sad, the pale, fractured doctor with a glorious face. Jessica’s leg is in the Erotic hospital.