When That Head Splits

Poured away into a shallow
Pool of oils, spilling colours
Mesmerised by her visage
Appearances emulsified

Stationed at the basin's edge
A fisherman waiting to catch
The prize that lies beneath the screen
Of gold and blues and tangerines

When she grows numb
Set by the sun
She will become
Part of the kingdom

Alone she sits, a silent voyeur
Kneeling naked at the altar
While ants clamber over the
Petrified hand of her neighbour

There is a bulb inside her head
Where once there was a brain in place
A clod with roots, a ball of string
That's full of love and lycorine

When she grows numb
Set by the sun
She will become
Part of the kingdom