When That Head Splits

Poured away into a shallow Pool of oils, spilling colours Mesmerised by her visage Appearances emulsified Stationed at the basin's edge A fisherman waiting to catch The prize that lies beneath the screen Of gold and blues and tangerines When she grows numb Set by the sun She will become Part of the kingdom Alone she sits, a silent voyeur Kneeling naked at the altar While ants clamber over the Petrified hand of her neighbour There is a bulb inside her head Where once there was a brain in place A clod with roots, a ball of string That's full of love and lycorine When she grows numb Set by the sun She will become Part of the kingdom