New World – A Poem by Julie Hogg

New World

Survival, rich in
fat and smashed
bones for marrow,
butted, run-down,
pit-trapped, ran to
a steep place and
crashed in a gorge,
chert cut marks on
our skin cloaks, an
imperishable spirits’
shell eyed skull and
every dissection is
basically the same,
papillary muscles,
pulmonary trunk,
white hide twitching,
lithic heartstrings
hanging out to dry
in fingers bent back
on negative forms of
a human hand, red in
the wind over ice-sheets.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s