Horror Vacui 2 by Alison Armstrong
Our Surgeon Father
(c) Alison Armstrong


Our Surgeon Father,
Who removed Adam’s rib
And extracted Paradise,
Give us this day
Our daily vaccine.
Innoculate us with
Your Supreme Drug,
Anesthetiser of impulse,
Curer of imagination.
Give us Your distillate
Of Original Sin,
The shameful droplets
Of hastily masturbated sperm.
Inject our rigormortified bodies
With your antidote
Of anhedonia and negation.
We, Your obedient patients,
Humbly promise
To deny all false drugs,
Surrendering our souls
To Your divine scalpel.
Confection
(c) Alison Armstrong

Flattened under rolling pin hands,
I splatter out the edges,
Snaking across the floured board.
The cookie cutters
Slice my feet
And lacerate my chest.
I am pre-shaped,
Geometrically perfect.
But my stumps ache,
Yearning for the painful  budding
Of toes and breasts.
I am a confection,
A fabrication
Sweetened with nursery rhymes
Scriptures, and advertising slogans.
As my flesh bubbles and splits,
My crisped mouth smiles
In a non-pareil row
To entice,
Seduce,
And be consumed
By my creator.
Sea Moon
(c) Alison Armstrong


Your swollen white belly
Floats on the dark water,
Salt water womb
Of spongy sea-flesh.
Luminous white tentacles
Undulate towards me,
Rippling over the mollusk graveyard,
The slimy pebbles,
Wrenched birthings of cliffs.
Between my toes
Your white light creeps,
Tickling soft and cold,
A remembered death,
blood and brine.
Cyclops mother
Calls gull-voiced,
Piercing my womb
With shards of longing.