Poetry Series by Jaxon Goddard-Westland, photo by Jack Evans

This tongue of mine

I know I can’t talk so will you at least listen;

I know I can’t talk so I watch your lips glisten;

But this tongue in my mouth,

Palate, field, of my crops;

Saboteur of my buds and blooms.

I am the visionary;

Time folds as I move through it;

And left in my wake are stories.

I know I can’t talk for I have bitten my tongue;

I know I can’t talk potent feelings unsung;

But this blood in my mouth,

Sanguine sign of desire;

Amorous froth, dribbles and leaks.

As I look in the mirror at this hole in my face;

Where a hazy dusk resides;

A palpitating sunset;

Of purple coloured skies.

Moving up from my heart, throat, mouth;

Sitting on my tongue;

climbing up my mind;

Loves tinctured lavender hues,

I see behind my eyes.

Past, present, future;

My love wants me askew;

I can try to deny this lusty ardor;

Or take in this lavender hue.

Colour Green - After Walt Whitman

Dear. Oh Dear. Colour me green and lie me in a field;

Colour me, rigid and prone, eyes shut, sealed;

Plant me lavender fields waves and rows—Plant me a grave shrouded;

Plant me in the ground, a covered mound, the space around me crowded;

Oh dear. my love.

Feel my cold embrace;

A sorrow stood upright,

broken and debased.

For under this packed terrain, a man shaped hole exists;

I walk a green in carnation, as I dream about our tryst;

The field’s been plucked and pruned, the flowers sprouted and bloomed;

A sombre night, the festering blight, beauty knows it’s doomed;

Hush purple beauty, hush purple sea.

If I don’t make haste;

This lavender streak shall wither,

And rot there broken and debased.

Juniper Blue

Juniper blue, has an unrelenting saturation;

The kind that wisps your vision,

And turns grimy rags into molotovs;

It coats my throat;

Drys my mouth;

Bites my lip;

And then begins to talk without direction;

I try to wash down this sharp liquid, juniper blue;

But it swells up, up in my throat;

Swallow it

Swallow the sweet tonic, juniper blue;

Swallow it. before quinine turns to bitter ends,

And you are left seeing colours again;

Juniper blue, old friend.