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Three New Poems on which to End the Week

27/3/2015

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We've three new poems for you today, from two different writers, covering sci-fi, dark fantasy and mythical creatures.

We start off with After and The Selkie by Beth Cato, who makes a return to Grievous Angel after we first encountered her work in July last year. Beth is the author of The Clockwork Dagger, a steampunk fantasy novel from Harper Voyager. Her website is http://bethcato.com and you can find her on Twitter at @BethCato

Next we have Keys by Edward Palumbo. Edward is a graduate of the University of Rhode Island (1982). His fiction, poems, shorts, and journalism have appeared in numerous periodicals, journals, e-journals and anthologies including Rough Places Plain, Flush Fiction, Tertulia Magazine, Epiphany, The Poet’s Page, Reader’s Digest, Baseball Bard, Dark Matter and poemkingdom.com. Ed’s literary credo is: if you fall off the horse, get right back on the bicycle. We hear you Ed but you haven't seen me on a bicycle!


by Beth Cato


After

radiation's kiss
blisters the lips
that toxic tongue
loosening teeth
still gentler than
his final kiss
a taste of bitter iron,
regrets and salt
his face lost to ashes


The Selkie Visits the Beach
(Six Months After Losing Her Pelt)


water teases with a briny breath
heavy swirl of current
cajoles her to come home, home--

yet sand itches along the tender arches
of her feet
a deep chill pervades her thin skin
so recently tanned

she craves fish for supper
deep fried with chips


Keys
by Edward Palumbo


There are eighty-eight keys to the mansion,
And she waits,
Clad in black, stroking a white cat,
Clad in mystery, pondering a victim,
She appears as a young woman,
No more than twenty - and alluring,
But she is ancient and hungry,
And she has devoured stronger than you,
And she will again,
She seats you and calms you with a glass of red wine,
Hints of chocolate and blackberries haunt your palate,
She will serenade you on the piano,
Until your head becomes light,
And when she has finished,
She will disrobe and offer you her paleness,
Her ancientness,
And you cannot resist,
Your blood is hot in your veins,
But only for the shortest while.
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