Two In The Bush

Two In The Bush is a collaboration exhibition at Forest Cafe in Edinburgh.All the works have been collected in a book, it can be viewed and purchased in here. My writer is Samantha Tucker,I really felt happy to collaborate with her!

    

     Cleaner

Her day begins with a love affair:

fingering found foods behind the oven,

the breakfast blueberries training circuit.

Coriander is a turbaned man faltering in the palette,

her tongue gets busy pushing him away.

Mayonnaise limps into slug trails,

asparagus heads make plush military cylinders,

industrious and honoring glasnost.

Splashed prunes, feline and crapulent leave rude stains.

She hopes no-one will come in,

disturb her flirting with the squash,

reaching for the bacon rind.

She can almost smell the piquant rashers,

hear their popping chorus in the fryer.

She wants to claim the onion skins,

rub them coarse against her body

until she reeks of them.

She wishes the occupants would leave her more;

long and slippery soaked cinnamon bark sticks-

wet custard to lather up-

something to chew on.

In the holidays when no-one’s there

she lets herself into the flat,

chopsticks tangled in her hair,

throws off her coat,

j-cloths ragged blue squares,

moves the oven all the way out

and swims down into the cooking oil.

Only when Soya sauce smashes from

the oriental shelf into cartoon pixels

is she covered; raking birdlike at chicken bones,

adding ketchup- squirted in climactic, holy circles.

    

   Hospitality

I invited you to my house

and you said nothing.

I gave you a towel that night-

rejected. Perhaps you were already clean.

Or maybe you had a towel, softer than mine,

Egyptian cotton, a bather’s dream.

I cooked aubergines. You left them

leathery and lovely, clinging in their jackets.

I offered ginger snaps, to compliment your nudeness.

You merely rustled the packets.

I wondered if dimming the lights would help-

to soften your pubic outline,

or turning up the thermostat, to let moisture

keel from your skin, pelican from the thick side of your thigh wing.

I wanted to take you for cocktails, down the road,

but you didn’t drink, and wouldn’t leave,

all the time you were content to be there,

on the three-seater settee, unsaddled, divine-

enjoying your own smell,

Tahitian vanilla pressed with lime.

What does it all add up to?

Washed hair buzzing of lacquer and wine,

you an origami swan learning to be.

Me & My partner 

Samantha Tucker

 ♥