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in
chapbook, Songs For Lesser Gods, erbacce press, 2009,
ISBN
978-1-9065885-4-0
The Chelonian Expert
They inhabit his rooms,
primeval
relics,
regard him with black eyes
seeded
in skull pods.
Sometimes
he caresses their shells,
able
to distinguish minutiae,
seeking
symmetry
in
hard curves, conves squabs
of
brown and black and gold,
exquisite
sanctuary.
His
wife describes indifference
though
secretly despises cold chelonian
scrutiny.
Warm
bloods indue panic,
their
hot, soft brilliance, twitch
of
blood under skin
and
sump of flesh, jellyfished
over
clean and linear bone,
sour
mat of hair.
Naked
by the mirror, he traces
clavicle
and sternum with
a
curious finger,
the
bump of floating ribs,
his
pleading heart, tick-tockative
in
its cage.
She
finds him, on his back,
helpless
to right himself, rocking,
slowly
slowly.
(Chelonian:
belonging to the order of Chelonia, comprising turtles and tortoises).
Lesley Quayle
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