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And when all else fails
by Emily Hinshelwood
And when all else fails at least there is light.
Even in the tight sphincter of hell a fire burns;
in the hollow well of tear stained yearning
salted water glistens. Listen
even in the darkest mood of the cruellest mind
a drop of good uncurls.
There is still gold in the guts of the world.
Flecks slipped between thick grains of night.
I select a speck of white
a tiny gram that heralds the dawn
and place it between the lines on my palm:
a glass bubble
a boule pregnant with chance.
I place it in my mouth where,
like space dust it sings across my taste buds.
I tease it with the tip of my tongue,
lick and suck, slip the iced white drop
in and among the folds of my hungry tongue
ease it to the front
glass bead clenched between my teeth.
And I bite.
I crush that tiny speck of light
a fission, a flash, a crash of splintered shards of bright
colours splash, flood gushing
blood red, sunburst yellow, tangerine. It streams
across my lips and drips in heady scent
tinged in gold and edged with bold brilliance
it glows, it flows
in lusty anything goes potency.
I slurp and slap and swallow
gorge on the leaked rainbow
distilled spectrum of desire
and fire ignites my deepest fear
burning it far
far
into the darkest night.