In the carpet heat
You’d find the pit,
observe a creature shadowed by it:
a cockroach, overgrown,
gone lax, beat.
Watch it now
unfastening itself, or trying to,
trochanter manipulating the tarsus
scraping along the exoskeleton for purchase
until the fresh white of the flesh eases through
but this is not enough,
its hooks work visceral as the sun
eviscerates the scleral flesh
the rays pierce the eyes’ facets
dig deep and bring forth
refracted, reflected beyond Euclid
the wet white ropes
deformed searing the brain
from a warped mirror
the graven image.
It feels itself unravelled,
two tubes pooling coagulate on the salted base
the lines conflict with each other
one drips in detritus, composed,
the other is whip-like
half-coiled about your shoe.
Those hewn bulbs gaze empty at the gashed future
then see the audience,
its vanity thought private
I'm a 21-year old student from Oldham. I use poetry to make feelings tangible. I like translation.