Poem of the Week - ‘My Prey, My Twin’ by Nicholas Laughlin

Little king, my prey, my twin,
trail of pearls in the grass.

Glass bones in my wrist.
Pulse in a maze of glass.

All throat and eye
and wrist and spy,
electric ribs.
Trick as a trap.

My nettle tongue prickled with a pledge.
The crook of my arm pricked with the pulse of a bird.


There’s something intriguing about this little poem that keeps me re-reading it. Laughlin refrains from letting us know what exactly he is describing, yet the imagery and the emotions evoked by the sometimes contradictory suggestions leave me feeling like I should know, like I should be able to attach the odd mixture of feelings he evokes to something concrete. A keeper, I think.

This talent for puzzling, beautiful writing is displayed throughout The Strange Years of My Life, Nicholas Laughlin’s most recent collection, out earlier this year from Peepal Tree Press.

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