Stain by David Hay

A black stain slips into the mind,
here comes a thought, a thought
that obeys no order

A drumming despair and a voice
distinct but not separate
intrudes into the centre of each emotion.

The voice has sipped in my silence
Spat it out.

Violent. Pathetic.

My topography of flimsy flesh
is half-captured by the last few drops of evening.

there is nothing that is secure

everything is mutable

Time nibbles gently at my fleshy seems,
and my mother is brain-cradled in her despair.

I hide beneath a landscape
of variegated bed covers,
and take tentative dark sips of stale air
from my subterranean sanctum
of rotten leaves
and the corpses of peaches.

The doctors materialise once more into the darkness
of my self-constructed womb
mumbling their grammarless chants.

My mind wants to vomit.
Their deep-organ tones
are rich with inhuman terror.

DAVID HAY’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in Dreich, Abridged, Acumen, The Honest Ulsterman, The Dawntreader, The Babel Tower Notice Board,  Ink, Sweat and Tears, The Lake, Selcouth Station, GreenInk Poetry, Dodging the Rain, Seventh Quarry and Expat Press, among others. His debut publication is the Brexit-inspired prose-poem Doctor Lazarus published by Alien Buddha Press (2021).

© Maximus Magazine 2022

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