Pentad by Sue Spiers

Pentad

Their bodies were heavy.
Hauled into my car boot,
hefted to the kitchen table.
Each of five swollen brutes
dismembered on marble.

Slicing caps at an angle,
scooped out ice-cold brain;
distended threads of pulp.
Threshing knife to mangle,
gouging innards clean.

With serrated blade of metal
I carved scars through the skin,
threw eyes to piles of gore,
scraped canines, jagged jaws;
fingers bore the fleshy stain.

Matching caps to heads
I washed off the limpet caul.
In the gloom of the shed
a fire in each hollow skull
leaked shadows on the wall.

I moved them to the garden;
a show to freak out children.
Checking later in the night
a snail clung to one cheek,
peeked into the demon’s eye.

 

(This poem first appeared in the author’s collection Jiggle Sac.)

Sue Spiers lives and works in Hampshire. Her poems have appeared in South, The Interpreter’s House, The Dawntreader and are forthcoming in Dream Catcher and Under The Radar. Online work has appeared in Ink, Sweat & Tears and StepAway magazines as well as the Poetry Map of Hampshire.  She is proud to be included in Hallelujah for 50ft Women, a Bloodaxe anthology edited by Raving Beauties.

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