Perfection

In many ways,
I never learn.
Coaxing dead bruises.
Corking my skin.

Sewing love into hems.
Yearning for a reviving touch.
The walking wounded
in nature’s glory.

A love that bruises

Welts in line with flinching
An exit beleaguered by blind adulation
As harpies hang from dying trees
Frothing at the mouth with maudlin song
Dropping their dread like breadcrumbs
Haranguing me to flee

You are not bullet proof

Let me sing to your ribcage
Blessing your breath
Soothing you with love, quietly
I am your goddess
With mettle, love forged its way
We in these wastelands
Our secret Brigadoon
At last, I am feeling alive in a love so robust
My organs riot
Your order and will pull me closer
Nothing can save me from you
A guest inked on your skin
Hunting for my final resting place

Love’s loss

shirking responsibility
bathing in foolish want
lounging in dreams
eyes blazing in unison
a sighing universal
walking to walk
breathing to breathe
waking to each new dawn
with little surprise in store
holding onto fragments of hope
in respect of the promise made
we keep living to love
with fingers now talons
scratching at skin
digging to feel something other than nothing
you made the nothing
something
we grew closer as
love knocked us sideways
stoking the hearts of us
flooding our bodies with joy
love in a country made for two
we sealed it and ran
you with my sadness above you
me with your mouth on mine
breathing quick to save time

Remind me when I forget

Remind me that you love me
Even when I blaze through
Singed at the seams
Untouchable
Remind me that you love me
I forget

Rebirth

I’ve made so many mistakes
Given myself to the lost
Hoping to find home
Suffered the wrath of the cruel
Left in pieces of grief
I want a rebirth
I want a riot of butterflies
To take me back
Back to that air heavy with colour
Muted sounds comforting
Nights steeped in the wonder
Of my mother’s belly
Back to the beginning
Naked in a church font
Blessed in morning light
Mouths whispering promises to protect me
A baby up in arms
Demanding only love

Transgression

I do not want your attention.
The shouts of heraldry are misplaced as I squint at the sun.
I hide in the dark.
Waiting for empty pavements to exist.
Do you know how it feels to stalk the earth in vain.
To watch the rain and want to be the raindrops?
The only joy is knowing I’m not alone in my exclusion.
I am part of a pack.
A misunderstood teeming line of souls.
One day, we will have favour.
We shall have glory.
You and yours will bow.
Holding your wicked tongue.
Your unclenched fist signalling hope.

I am an unfinished opus

I am an unfinished opus.
A work of art in waiting.
Life composes me.
The seasons work in tandem.

Rain dampens wrath.
Cold brings hiatus.
Sun warms the binding.
Adding essential strength.

Anne-Marie Silbiger is an Irish poet living in London
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