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