Should You Wish to Imagine Poetry in Ventricular Ectopy
False starts, I’m aching to roll with you,
though you catch me stumbling off beat latches,
stomatic downturns spoken improvised snatches of punk,
hybrid bongo systole, freeze-frame lunar static,
splitting the chill of echoes stealing a dared breath
under muzzles of blood-scent. Pot-holed turbulence
lugged smoky in retrograde transitions through scarlet-rippled
symphonies, moonlight jellies sticky in their sting. Birthday bumps
buffered as bandwidth, stirring outflow rhythms, splashing
sour the sweat of burgundy; its loft-flung plagues
of pigeon, tusked walrus cephalalgia, stomach-churning
ventricles startled to aquaplane bigeminy, grapple jealous
gravity, slip shapeshifting demons, farouche hiccups
of the heart.
Leigh Manley is a poet from South Wales. He has work published with Poetry Wales, Red Poets, Black Bough Poetry, Seventh Quarry, and various anthologies. Follow him @bardcalon (Instagram) or @rugby_poet (X).