An international online magazine that publishes Surrealist poetry in English.
Dreaming in Kartvelian
Just let me overnight it
I'll dream of hypnotising chickens
and bringing dead bandoleros back to life
of watching the collision of two bubbles
ripple them to their gaseous hearts.
I hope it becomes a labyrinthine dream
with tunnels full of no consequence
or even meaning
and in the morning I will look at it,
lay out its clothes and curse its awkwardness.
I will mock the bones of it
dig my fingers under its ribs
until it squeals, until fingers meeting viscera
brings a cry
that would summon the mute Chaldean playwright.
Then. I will answer your question,
slake your bloody thirst and sluice my voicebox
I will lick my wounds as I speak
and button myself up like a shirt,
but you will have your answer.
You will have it and you will like it
because it will be made from your balm,
your guilt, creamed.
Once and only once,
on a day we knew as 'Healing Day'
we dressed in wire
and they led us at dawn
blindly down to the ocean
they claimed they didn't know
what morning looked like
through our eyes
and when they kissed us,
they wiped their lips
and when they finally prayed
for peace at last and held us
under the salt water
we saw the others
circling the island like elvers
moved by the current, soundless
with an expression on their bleached faces
and an urgency in their passing
that said they had somewhere
to be, some pressing business.
In their faces we saw the elsewhere,
realised that time was nature's way
of making sure it didn't all happen
Frank McHugh is from the west coast of Scotland. He teaches and writes poetry in both Scots and English, as well as songs, short fiction and plays. His poetry has appeared in several publications, including Acumen Poetry, New Writing Scotland, The Glasgow Review of Books, Gutter Magazine, and SurVision. He is currently one of the four poets on the Clydebuilt mentoring programme.