The Anatomy of an Avatar 
 

The tools that punctuate my wrists, 
knotted knuckles, bony fists, 
these harsh, blood-matted lion's paws 
tear at what they touch, 
bring tears to what they touch. 
Immortal cries from yawning jaws 
spill Midas tears into the salty oceans, 
where frenzied sharks are running through the motions. 
Ears, snapping like piranhas' smiles, 
strip flesh from words in lawless trials, 
warlocks by fire, witches by water. 
Unstitching webs of tangled silken sounds, 
racing, ravenous bloodhounds 
drive sheepish thoughts to Trojan slaughter. 
Overflowing buckets in a storm's eye 
can't ensnare a fraction of the sky. 

Stamped signatures of hooves upon the sand 
are washed from beaches by a lunar hand. 
The underbelly of the signatory, 
dressed with medals, worn with blisters, 
uniform of soldier sisters, 
counts the days of endless glory. 
With fuelled momentum, restless pedals 
tread on sheets of fading petals. 

The cobalt globes enthroned within my skull, 
polar stare, hypnotic lull, 
from the craters, lanterns jutting, 
chart the way, deliberate, 
through the tempest navigate, 
dissecting, cleaving, piercing, gutting, 
light the portents, crumble fallacy, 
harbingers, who herald me. 

The gulf, over which my words cross, 
articulates my bliss, my loss, 
I sink within its fathoms, slowly drowning 
in symphonies of eloquence, 
void of painful consequence, 
drag the vital from the frowning.
The starfish, in its salty haven, 
spreads its wings, a watery raven. 

The engine howling in my chest, 
its creaking gears disturb my rest, 
binding me to corporal being. 
This perfunctory sovereign sinks 
its roots in my veins, from which it drinks, 
unthinking, unfeeling, unresting, unseeing. 
A token of mortality, 
this parasite, it dwells in me. 
 
 

  (C) Copyright 1999
Nick Kellaway 
All Rights Reserved