The Poetry Bug

is a moon-pale, lumpish creature

parcelled in translucent skin

papery as filo pastry

patterned faint as a fingerprint

is quite without face or feature

ear or eye or snout
has eight root-like
tentacles or feelers, rough

like knuckly tusks of ginger

clustered at the front.

Invisible to the naked eye

monstrous in microscopy
it loves the lovers’ bed or couch

pillow, quilt or duvet
and feeds, thrives I should say

on human scurf and dander

indeed, is never happier
than feasting on the dust
of love’s shucked husk
the micro-detritus of us.

from Self-Portrait in the Dark (Picador, 2008), © Colette Bryce 2008, used by permission of the author and the publisher.

Colette Bryce in the Poetry Store

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