Mors Janva Vitae

Mors Janva Vitae

I touch
Low, aged rough red brick boundary
Crumbling cement
Tease out, roll between my fingers
Hidden fag end
Old tobacco
Memory and olfaction

I touch
Regular angular
Small black metal gate spikes
Give an easing scratch
Give in to temptation
Push deeper into palm
Jesus that hurts

I touch
Patches of lichen like
Cat’s nose velvet
Micro forest for mini beasts
Thorns of dead dog rose
Yellowing leaf easily falls
Crunch down to its skeleton

I touch
Brittle dying roots that protrude
Weave in
Stretch of greener shoot
Secret snail
Comes loose
Set it on a different path

I touch
Knot of black lych gate wood
Trace fingertip over
Mors Janva Vitae
Type for translation

I touch
Blooms mottled with autumn decay
Faint scent of another decade
Plastic detritus discarded
In a bed of nettles
Peel honesty apart
To see the veins

I touch
Yew, mercilessly clipped
Pluck flash of blue banded
Jays feather from branches
Startled by wings
That are free
Heart flutters

I touch
Berries, crush one
Twin seeds burst forth
Desire to taste
Fresh flesh stain
Flick to hide
The taken life

I touch
Sharp, smooth flint
Appears as a wall of bones
A initial carved into one
It is mine
Urge to ting ting metal drain pipe
With neat vermilion nails

I touch
Marble smooth
Granite cold
Outline, profile, no relief
Pretend to tend to headstones
Brush away webs
Pick away ivy
Wipe away tears




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