Unfinished novels

“how Rory was furious” and “the unicorn’s golden iris”

Hands reaching across Asia, to the tents of Tamburlaine | Jack | crushed the bud of a peony | in his palm

Lives, too, unfinished | the girls in their party frocks | in cloakrooms crowded with coats | patting and stroking down | Sam in gauzy angel wings | Monty | taking a quick slug from his flask | white gloves and opera glasses | and all tied with a neat bow of silken giggles | as Cory and Josie slip away | leaving shapes on hangers | and the finest | disturbance of stillness in clouded mirrors | taking photos on their phones | and rushing, rushing, rushing | like souls | caught in two minds | between two bodies | Josie and Monty | flustered, yet

Badly arranged | transmigrations

Not getting | to the end of the episode | passing out | in the middle of the wedding

Arriving too late | for the fireworks display | the air muted | scented with smoke | and flat | all the bubbles of “oohs!” | floated away | into the

And death no end | a clunky | plot device | the tulips in the unfreshened bowl | by Granny’s clock | droop like snakeheads | dipping to drink

Crushed up in the car | the weeping ballerinas | still in their tutus | gawping photographers | in the midnight fields | horses stand, very still, under a full moon

And death no

 


from the series hypergrammar (open-ended, 2012–present)

Advertisements