Who are you?
Calls the catepillar.
For a second I cannot answer.
The words walk me home as I encounter
versions of myself eating peaches on public transport.
The armoured clouds come back to me, Estefania.
the blue wind wrapped around your yellow legs
the blue wind biting your ankles
the blue wind loving the white wind in the black desert
the blue wind that flows up your skirt and moves
mysteriously around the halls of your palace of blue
Everynight we bathe with faries in the fountains of the Alhambra.
Everynight we dine on Federico Garcia-Lorca’s eyes.
We stroll around the wateland of his dreams.
We see unicorns devoured by dogs.
No we are not unicorns. No we are not dogs.
the blue wind dripping blue on the bluebells
the bluebells dancing wildly in the blue wind
the blue wind blowing over bruises of the blue moon
Sometimes I find myself eating poems by the roadside,
sometimes I find myself in little pockets of gas.
Where I cannot breath as there is no air.
But mostly, Estefania, I find myeslf in you.
I leave my answer for the catepillar
though the catipillar is gone.
*
Charlie Baylis is from Nottingham, England. He studies irony in the back of his mind. He has two pamphlets Elizabeth (agave press) and hilda doolittle´s carl jung t-shirt (erbacce), a poem of his will be featured in the ‘best new British and Irish poets 2017’ (Eyewear Press). He spends his spare time completely adrift of reality. He likes your shoes (kind of).
Photo illustration by Jessica Herrera
Tuesday, December 13th 2016