Orange Blossom
Poems by
Linnet Phoenix
Table of Contents
Orange Blossoms
Out of Body Experience
Ex Hurricane Lorenzo
Orange Blossom
Death is not found in undertaker’s
sterile floor-to-ceiling stacked fridges.
Nor in tasteful tone interior decor of floral
tribute congested funeral parlours.
Death does not reside in petty cash stashed
tied up tight, awaiting promised probate.
As relatives fiddle air feigning disinterest,
waiting wishfully on inked will’s promise.
Death presents itself best in our olfactory,
the twin fragrances that delegate for decay.
A wedding dance of Hades & Persephone,
she’s wears Persil white orange blossom.
A sickly sweet citric chemical romance,
bacterial blessing, carbon life goes rotten.
She sweeps away last hopes of recovery
as autumn gales, leaving a nasal distress.
He comes with the metallic ring of irony
coating both nose and throat in bloody
painted fear stained unmistakable taste,
a rattle sometimes heard, not forgotten.
Out of Body Experience
Floating back against the ceiling
may seem a strange place
to find yourself.
But better up here than down there
down on the floor fighting
to breathe between the fingers
held over your mouth and nose,
snot and tears slithering in-between.
You cannot scream, only snort,
suffocation stampeding towards
your oxygen deprived brain.
you twist and turn in desperation
as his bulk and spittle raging
crazed tantrum carpet pins you.
A spilt second of self-preservation
jaws force lips open, teeth biting hard,
trapdoor sprung released.
Fear courses every vein as vengeance
rain blows from above.
Booted kicks carry you across
the hall into the bathroom tub
with a final head shot to knock
that princess crown off for good.
“Look what you made me do,” he said.
Ex Hurricane Lorenzo
She wakes rosy cheeked as dawn breaks,
blusher rubbed off on dove grey pillows.
Bedhead, her hair a tangle of jet trails,
blue eyes smudged with charcoal shadow.
Powder flecked clouds drop across her face,
she notices the silence of a calm smile.
His fragrance lingers on the forecast.
He may be past his best, a dim reflection
of past championship hits, the boxer.
But she is still wary of his vicious fists.
Bio
Linnet Phoenix is a poet based in Bristol in the South West of England.
She has been writing poetry for years. Her work has recently been published
in Impspired. She also enjoys riding her Icelandic horse in the countryside.
Punk Noir Press 