Two Poems

by Sommer Cullingford

Desertion

From the water’s

outskirts,

a glittering hem

and bitter breath

snarl the surface.

Heavy

with rocks in my locket,

I tomb my toes into

pebbles, distressed 

by shifting

density;

I’m intransigent to wind -

but supple,

soundless suggestions  

send glittering flags

in tiny directions. 

A wild arc

into the grey

lattice-work

of winter bones

and out through

their dead fingers

is where the time goes.


Hollowood

A philatelist for your

little stamps of 

spite,

tiny pictures

preserved

within tissue,

each abortion torn

from the enveloped,

the mother-letter

that was meant to be 

sent;

a courting,

a condolence,

a cursory correspondence -

all trapped,

in skin

and in conjuring.

No unfolding,

no recipients
no witness

but the victims:

The severed webs

upon the opening

of a mailbox,

wanting…

     (Within the collation’s pages

     lie sly

     infant slits

     where the stamps sit,

     there rots a meaningless

     adhesive you -

     leeching enmity’s’

     obnoxious glue.)

Sommer Cullingford is an up and coming poet from Auckland, New Zealand who is slowly emerging into the cyber-sphere with her prolific, unique work; rich in imagery you can reach for, she is always trying to scramble the senses through a characteristically evocative selection of words to convey narrative and escape the monotony of the mundane, while delivering work with coherent perspective, tinged with insight. You can read more of her work at: https://myshamelessselfpromotion.wordpress.com/