Stefanie Bennett

The Soft Domestic Economy
for Paul Summers

Via the vending maelstrom
I get a blighted
portfolio poultice.
An art deco
electric toothbrush.
Three cut-out
culinary
square meals – and
a jump-to-it confederacy
of confidence madrigal

where... nothing is
as it seems – just
the usual
acidic glare
from my bed-sit
night nurse
who has
Madam Blavatsky’s
eyes.

Dear Reader

In pursuit of the common touch
they wanted to know
if I’d stake
my life on it.

Vive la difference!

What I’m most curious of, is
would they then raise
defiant fists
if I didn’t?

Stefanie Bennett © 2018

The Foreign Affair


Bossy was kicking the bucket
long before she did:
rationing
the great white froth,
bellowing
something sinful – & worse
in winter
when the calf
was lost
to heaven.

Cow days. (What’s that!)
A tanned rump
& heads
stuck
in Greenwich
mean-time... the eyes
all telling.
She saw
‘Hell’.
She disarmed it.

After Jeff Wayne’s ‘Forever Autumn’

When a mother leaves
the nest grows
brittle. Sleep
becomes unstitched.
The sun fires
in the belly’s
ribcage – and
the eyes
caretaking fog.

When a mother leaves
the mirage
of invention
stays.

Stefanie Bennett © 2018