I am spur‐footed.
Impaled on a pelagic landscape.
Each spike is a second. Six between heartbeats that do not sound.
The indifferent sucking of the iron maidens’ withdrawal.
I skewer out territorial limits.
Fresh lipped wounds murmur oily in my wake.
I work in the long necked curve of steel from fluked peninsula to headland and back again.
Scarfed and hooked, I begin to draw back a strip.
A cracking sound as the reaving quickens. A subterrane of warmth is bared.
I lower myself in and heave the shivering pale fillet back over me.
kim w. wilson now the once 21 – 24 november 2013 bill scoM sculpture centre, esw, 21 hawthornvale, eh6 4jt slowair.wordpress.com