Two poems
1.
Flicking my hips underwater,
I make a tail of my legs.
Flicking my hips underwater,
I make a tail of my legs.
To move through matter
head first
fingers kissing —
I am the cursive language
of the under blue
not looking for awkward answers,
like when I am upright
just the rolling writing
of this realm
No age, either; it always feels
the same,
every liquid letter.
2.
The stormcloud unleashes
a ghost tongue
out of its mouth;
apparition indigo, peach —
the houses underneath on the hill
are neon answers to starshine
are neon answers to starshine
a lone, dried leaf,
leeched of colour
sails past the arc width
and settles on the grass with a scratch —
'endings' I think.
But the rainbow licks at it too
pouring
holy violet
light continuous.
C. LJ Ireton 2025
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