Gutter by Luna Ma Narama

Flick pop,
Caterwaul.
Talon,
jazz juice,
Aubergine,
I am plum
and prime with you,
younger than my years know.
In fluro-scar shadow,
twist,
lick
tobbaco tongued,
we trip wild
and long on
cobbles
not unknown to the likes of us.
If you ask
I am sea
with you,
salty,
green wash currents
gush city wide
and catch,
gather,
grime and
jibe in
exploration,
we go underground.
Fizzing past gap tooth
sherbet ghosts,
past mothers
unborn,
cosmic catharsis.
For silver tipped eyes like yours
time is spread
and wanting,
eager for the lily lips of you
to prise
alleys loose,
to jump cut,
ember hurricane
whiskey snouts,
chide and elongate,
rocking horsed through denim shreds
to sequin gutter sunrise.
Long eyes in short nights
and skirts,
then
liquorice,
fickle,
dash, churn,
stop.

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photo by Flickr user Jef Safi

1536607_1437941003179556_8290168915295021114_n (1)Luna Ma Narama is a Western Australian-based poet and multi-disciplinary performance maker driven by a desire to better understand the physiological, emotional, and ethereal relationships between human cultures and the natural world. Her poetry and creative non-fiction has appeared in a number of publications in print and online including in Going Down Swinging, Roar, Offset, and Rebelle Society. You can read more of her work at www.lunamanarama.com