19.09.2016 Views

Picaroon Poetry - Issue #4 - September 2016

Issue #4 has arrived on your shores, this time bringing - amongst other things - murder (of a sort), mayhem (of many sorts), rather interesting bedroom shenanigans (just the one thankfully), and a rather more liberal use of the c-word than we'd usually contain (look away if this offends). CN/TW for child abuse, miscarriage. Features work by Nancy Iannucci, Cathryn Shea, Kevin Casey, Jeffrey Kingman, Ricky Garni, Paul Vaughan, Andie Berryman, Caroline Hardaker, Maurice Devitt, Daniel Roy Connelly, Al McClimens, Grant Tarbard, Meygan Cox, Anna Percy, Matt Duggan, Lizzie Holden, Holly Magill, Evie Worrall, Justin Hilliard, Antony Owen, Larry D. Thacker, R.A. Clemens, Lauren Suchenski, Amy Rea, Darren C. Demaree, and Courtney Lavender.

Issue #4 has arrived on your shores, this time bringing - amongst other things - murder (of a sort), mayhem (of many sorts), rather interesting bedroom shenanigans (just the one thankfully), and a rather more liberal use of the c-word than we'd usually contain (look away if this offends). CN/TW for child abuse, miscarriage. Features work by Nancy Iannucci, Cathryn Shea, Kevin Casey, Jeffrey Kingman, Ricky Garni, Paul Vaughan, Andie Berryman, Caroline Hardaker, Maurice Devitt, Daniel Roy Connelly, Al McClimens, Grant Tarbard, Meygan Cox, Anna Percy, Matt Duggan, Lizzie Holden, Holly Magill, Evie Worrall, Justin Hilliard, Antony Owen, Larry D. Thacker, R.A. Clemens, Lauren Suchenski, Amy Rea, Darren C. Demaree, and Courtney Lavender.

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The Visitor<br />

Matt Duggan<br />

Come lay with me in the hayfields<br />

among circles in yellow and stone,<br />

stare at a sky with bright stars<br />

like toasted crumbs on blue gingham,<br />

we hide from the opening of rooms<br />

the secrets disguised as lies;<br />

undress the pretty heart inside<br />

may the visitor never catch us.<br />

Come lay with me in the hayfields<br />

where the sun meets the day,<br />

catch the dew dropping from mouths in spring<br />

tasting the stolen fruit that lay beside me,<br />

a love exhumed from an assassin’s sight<br />

where nightingales whispered songs to the dead.<br />

We were lost in each other’s limbs<br />

hidden from the man with the favoured snout.

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