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Into the Looking Glass - Two Sonnets
The Patio Through Binoculars
A gang of biker slugs have settled round
a campfire of old bread, to chew the fat
and eat the carbohydrate that they've found.
Across the barren plane, three metres that,
in gastropod calligraphy, might just
spell death, two elephantine seals rear up
to taste the air with ink-eyed spots of lust.
One turns its upright torso round to sup
the sound washed up upon its sensate shore,
but ignorant of washing-up, ignores
the flying saucers and returns once more
to map its progress on the sandstone floor.
Refocus, and the corrugated pair
asweat in rubber suits reform; denote
a shift from treble clef to bass, then dare
to synchronise an exclamation, quote
unquote. Their testament is really in
the leaves they've scored; their will, upon their skin.
Window Pane Reflection
In youth, inverse voyeur, I watched the world;
aperture, akimbo legs, a hurdy-
gurdy head my camera obscura.
Pinned back black holes for eyes, the world when flipped
turned out inside, left right. What right word left
for liquid, light-bent quiddity? Observe,
two views I'd spied and both deserved
their parity; so crab wise I alike
would walk beneath the firmament of earth
and down the corridors of tilted trees
hung perpendicular to taunt the sky.
Now, in a narrow window's casement eye,
transported to that transposed plane, my feet
now head for their antipodes so meet.