The bulwarks you use to glaze your tenderness,
plating the smallness,
making it secure, the billboards hanging:
‘How elegant are my ramparts!’
The seven veils of flesh, its scattered furs,
wrapping the gift,
its cryptic, jittery contents.
The map of bones, its crossroads and wide streets,
dwindling to alleys at outlying points.
The goulash of moist, hot things that keep you ticking.
Copyright © Kitty Coles 2016
Kitty Coles has been writing since she was a child. Her poems have appeared in magazines including Mslexia, Iota, The Interpreter’s House, Frogmore Papers, Obsessed With Pipework and Ink Sweat and Tears.