Three Monkeys Online

A Curious, Alternative Magazine

Where the ether, Where the grave

By Scherezade Siobhan

Scherezade Siobhan is a psychologist, writer and the maker of world's finest Spanish omelettes. Her first poetry collection Bone Tongue was published by Thought Catalog Books in 2015. She can be found squeeing about small furry animals, football (the proper kind) & neuroscience at <a href="http://viperslang.tumblr.com/" target="_blank"viperslang or @zaharaesque

In an attic, the voodooed lambswool of my
childhood, the crawl of hunger through
the schisms in Ceylon satinwood. I return

to the chessboard of its floor, to the amputee
in the closet; to the limbless mannequin
of a fox-born elegy that drags its sharkskin,
through the gut of my gap-tooth.

This is where

my arms turn into a diary drunk on apologies
This is where I lied, I laid – blood sainted
by an aria of amphetamines

The snow owls came to kiss the scarecrow
a blue ruin’s grotto grinning under
my bedroom window. This is where
I housebroke a scream, sold it as a song

to the jaguar sleeping
in the rock garden of his knuckles

He was a porcelain rose – tumor & blossom
spit-shined, pumiced. I was the milky elbow
of cinnamon wetting the tea cloth. This is
where the ichor blurred us to a liquid heat

I watched us each stain the other; cochineal
as a knife’s teeth ghostwriting quatrains
into the journals of paper-thin kneecaps

We unfurled tongues in the other’s mouth
like teenaged fingers curling a coo around
revolvers in a Russian roulette. This is
where every bullet is soft like a birdsong.

Where everything was once timeless as lightning
Where every loss murmurs the same sharp name

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