Love (or, A Parasitic Illness) by Sen Threadgold


Where does your blissful lodger lie?
The spiral iris of your eye?
Or grown as rose thorns ‘round your heart,
Constricting, so it cannot start?
Perhaps within a cave-dark lung
Your lover, like a bat, is hung.

Such joy, to incubate and grow
Inside another’s bone marrow.








Artwork by: Remouse AKA Russell Mountford

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