Poetry from Lauren Ainslie


My pulsing heart has frozen

And that ice has spread

Through my stomach arms legs brain

My eyes are now sky-mirrors

My breath a dripping fog

It is growing inside me

butterflies behind my eyelids could not fly

They were trapped in an igloo

Their beryl wings turned into snow

They are now part of the glacier

I shiver

The floe has reached my skin

It cracks and pulls

It melts from my eyes and hands

You put it there

I wait for the day you drown.


Kites of the Ofoll Tree

The palmgrass waves and wanders,

the feet of wind run to their grave,

Their mother dead they ponder,

And the oceans rain they stave,

The pulsing heart of Ofoll tree,

Scrounge fish amongst the belly,

When midnight falls come the marquis,

Who will he take to gelly?

His Meerkat writhes upon his lip,

The shining cut he raised up high,

And snip! And snap! Her hair was shorn,

Now eyes can’t see the sky,

The jappy crowd stretch backs to glance,

His latest prize, his keed of sin,

Grandmothers clatch and scream and nip,

Those leaves are made of skin,

Shushshush, whowho, the sounds they do,

The widows crack the wood,

Their eyes alight, with meat they fight,

The czar bled out to brud,

‘Twas daylight when the green kites fell,

The Nippers were reborn,

Ocean tears melt from their cell,

The truth lies bare uglorn,

The palmgrass waves and wanders,

the feet of wind run to their grave,

Their mother dead they ponder,

And the oceans rain they stave.



Fitful sleep, turning and tossing like Pacific waves,

A child’s frightened breath sounds like wings of a hummingbird,

One tiny moonlit finger twitches.

There is a black & white flickering behind her lids,

Unveiling the silence of a forest,

With diagonal green grass,

And flowers blooming out of a skulls open mouth,

A creaking house sits amongst these animals.

It’s dark. It’s dark inside this house,

The moonlight reversing into shadows through the panes of glass,

She creeps along the yowling floor,

her sister angelic and comatose in the open arch behind her,

She hears a noise and her eyes travel to the window where they are not staring back,

Instead are the flaming eyes of the Jabberwocky,

It’s skeletal black wings blocking out the whispering wind,

Too terrified to move to speak,

It’s black, slimy tongue rises and opens the window latch,

She can taste its last meal cooking on its tongue,

it smashes its tail into the candy glass windows,

And she’s dead.

Vinegar tears drip from her eyes and nose,

When she looks up at the window her eyes stare back.