Four Poems
By Miggy Angel.
The Message
If you stay at home long enough
a wonderful thing shall happen
Your hair will mat into a glazed crown
Your nose-hair will splay
its four sacred tresses
to illustrate the compass
Your fingernails will grow
around corners & spy on neighbours
Your feet will become a silent kingdom
resplendent with vegetation
In your beard’s black length
shall be read the zodiac, & evidence
of your eating habits
Your armchair will respond
to your curvature’s signature
repelling all others
A large black crow
will fly thru your window
with a message tied to its leg
Beholden
I see Zeus
waiting in the checkout
queue. Fallen
on hard times, yet
still magnificent
His striking, aquiline
profile, that white mane
a staircase to heaven
Stuffing sausage-rolls
in his pockets
His eyes fixed, shiftily
on the shelves
of Greek yoghurt
The Workshop
I take the thirteen
dead rodents, hard
as asteroids
I take the big book
with the mule-leather
tunic, the ivy spine
The dead deity
I take the nails
The bloodied nails
The famous nails
With these categories
I make my bed
Give me the coat
of the dead philosopher
The coat of silver
The steel overcoat
in which all movement
is measured
Now, to lay down
Eyes wide as thought
Present & correct
for another mortal shift
in the black workshop
where keys are cut
for doors, which
do not exist
The Tenure
The Time has come, the way it comes around
That is, silently, unannounced
Upon the quiet padded feet of mice
the Time shall leave its hole
in a dusty skirting board
& enter the room in which
stagnation & television reign
The first you know of it is when the wires
display those teeth marks
The mantelpiece & its deities
of your family ephemera
are charged with a spirit of disorder
The saucer of milk empties itself
& you with no cat!
The Time has arrived to tighten your belt
To lace your boots, straighten your spine
Sharpen your tonsil. Now, utter the one word left
& surrender your tenure
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Miggy Angel is the orphan son of the old widow Thames river, a golden nugget grown in the belly of the earth, his bible’s the book of odes to ephemera, his religion is wonder, the starry night is his church. He walks the gangway of the age, a smile stitched with stardust & urban detritus. He blogs here.
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Thursday, March 3rd, 2011.