Poetry Magazines - The best collection of poetry magazines online - Simon Armitage

Life not only hangs us by the neck, but thongs
          Our wrists together first, so like chooks we have no flight:
Amphibians starved of land and water, we live merely in air
          Till crows descend, and peck away our sight.
I built a castle for you, before you knew,
          And there placed for you this fragile prison, my heart.
So you might, without principle, devour my fullness with songs.

My fingers in your auburn hair, your sun burning instantly
          In my cavity. A dream of honey splitting rich white
Cream. Of lips red as blood of calves. Of deception.
          By unbending chance, we find ourselves in exile, throbbing, mute.
What hope is there in farewell? In the hopping guardian of offal?
          Our fate lies in molecular utterance. Guilt will repeat.
But still your ankle strides on, measuring this universe incautiously.

A cunning brute, I seek your soul in chess.
          With the voice of origin, I keen for your immigrant heart,
Drink with you sea-water, sleep a rocking sleep, bring all things
          Closer to myself, going nowhere without my beloved.
Despair is no longer possible. Hands plunged in the richness of your hair
          Seeking muscle, kisses, martyrdom, I find your spirit whole and
                                                                                          undefeated.
Orphan, my mouth grows large, and sucks until we both are abyss.

I left a land for love, and the land still haunts.
          Swimming in drought, a man puts hope upon his shoulders,
Flings away his weapons until sky and human being
          Invade him, force his eyeballs Out - shriek taunts
As old and powerful as the wild boar-god who seeded all his clan.
          Now the sea is frozen, our feet are split; the skin slices
From our hands. And still, heads lopped, we dance.