a minor goddess of magic, isolated on this island the sun's my father I feed herbs to the lions my nightmare protectors whenever death calls for the bed-ridden days the morphine dripping into my veins if only I'd press the button
spiny solitary covered with coarse hair snouted elongated sharp clawed with tiny searching beady eyes looking for their next meal. I can't run away this time. I'm not strong enough
banshee keening at the death of myself washing the blood from my armour do you like my disguise? at dawn I begin as crone the silver in my hair glittering my eyes dead & brown sparked by the thought of devouring I leap/turn tigress bound can't be contained I need this a distraction from the pain the flare of the scar like the strike of a match against a fingernail in the dark stings the vulnerable skin
Sex First & Then A Sandwich (above/ground press, Canada, 2012) & Me, Medusa (Red Ceilings Press, UK, 2012). Her poetry has been published most recently in independent &/or student-run online magazines & zines & journals, including theSteelChisel.ca, Nickel95, Ottawater.com, The Peter F. Yacht Club, In/Words Magazine. Amanda is a small press fanatic & a chapbook addict.
Site: www.amandaearl.com; Twitter: @KikiFolle
the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan
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