Haud Yer Wheesht (Hold Your Tongue) by Lindz McLeod

Love leaves me whole,
a pockmarked moon.
Pared wounds knitted together
by chewing ants, each
champing tiny jaws over my flesh.
I taste of red dwarfs, half-dazed.
I am only this visible from a height.
An impact crater. Shallow basin
where the scuttling, fearty mammals
will rise again.

Remember not to be
a martyr, no one cares;
when the pyre burns out,
people traipse through the ashes.
In my native tongue, the word burn means
a lowly river, and so I understand
the world in backwards motion,
a mirror cursed with opposites.

I’ll take you out, tablecloth
crisp as uniformed lads
whose pale bones heather no man’s land;
napkin smoothed over my knee
again. Blether tumbles
from my lips.
Small wonder that
I come out of darkness
and fall like a thunderbolt.

Lindz McLeod

Lindz McLeod has published prose with Dundee V&A Museum, The Scotsman, the Scottish Book Trust, and more. She has published poetry with Allegory Ridge, Selcouth Station, Wingless Dreamer, Passaic/Völuspá, Prometheus Dreaming, For Women Who Roar, Coffin Bell, Heirlock Magazine. Lindz performs regularly at spoken word events in Edinburgh and Glasgow. Find more details of her work on her site www.lindzmcleod.co.uk, and follow her on Twitter @lindzmcleod.

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