Bring me the wings of Syd Barrett - Aimée Keeble
I know a man who wears ashes across his throat
and a madstone in his kidney to warn off disaster
dis’after, this afterwards and every day a kind of trust,
he led me to water falling in magnanimous repose
and we broke the world with an equine sensuality,
moving air and fictions with our giant teeth, our twitchy breast blades
he haunting in the ordinary, stain and promise the same-
two prayers to guarantee a silvering of my bloodnessness
a thing to trouble me different, declare me back to a moon nest
poised and breath-more, enough oxygen for a myth to cry out and out
and to hover like a baby beast, chewing on cause as an afterthought
who are we if we are not that face we see in the dream mirror?
building with an aphid devotion colors slopping and hardening until
lo, there is you, prowling utter- the residue of your seeking ripe and fresh upon
you as brine across scales, your underwater heart ready for sound
and condition breaking in pieces, loitering at your naked knees,
the profound violet of your bellow, a boom swelling behind each beat
of feet on and off the ground.
Aimée has her Master of Letters in Creative Writing from the University of Glasgow and is represented by Ayla Zuraw-Friedland at the David Black Agency. Aimée lives in North Carolina with her dog Cowboy and is working on her first novel. She is the grand-niece of Beat writer and poet Alexander Trocchi.