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Got The T-Shirt: Whispers

This poem by Steph Spiers homes in on the moment of creation.

Whispers on the eve of pollen-soaked vespers.
Wallow within, together sweating toad-like amplexus,
half-shrouded moonface blinks through floating voiles.
‘Listen my love. Come listen.’ Hails!
Caterwauling: fighting cats under the apple blossom
burgeoning lily white, stippled deep pink at the core. Fulsome.
Cling to the second of creation, shudders so deep
of afterthought, ripple joined souls to fitful sleep.


To read more of Steph's poems please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/got_the_tshirt/


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