fumbling with clay
after a forty-year break
lumpy demons
© Rachel Green February 2026
After Duffy, After Radstone
Next to my own skin, her scent,
resting against my lips, my fingers
where they ran across her skin
and pressed the soft, pale flesh around her throat.
All day long, I think of her cocooned
with her yellow room as sunshine
guilds the shutters of her nightly trysts
with Death and yet survives to greet
another dawn with beauty and with grace.
Today will see creation of a masterpiece
for by her hand she moulds both light and dark
and weaves another instance of mortality
to give the world a taste of what it is to slip
with naked flesh between the sheets of agony.
and ecstasy; that mausoleum shroud
of cotton where the blessed pearls still sleep.
© Rachel Green February 2026






