By: David Angelo

Mussels

Obsidian spear tips.
Quenelles of dusk.
The inside of every shell
carries a perfect sky
from a spring day.
A parcel of mustard-
coloured meat
waits for you to try
the sea’s music. Chew
slowly, taste every note.
Let your tongue
absorb the lulls
and peaks hitting
like the first waves
after a heartbreak.

###

Pico Ruivo, Madeira

The ocean of cloud
is poached by sunlight
slowly rising to give
tourists their sunrise.
Scouting sheep know
the deal: play cute
and get fed on hotel
leftovers. The Instagram
perfect scene is filtered
naturally for maximum
hearts. Hashtag: perfect.
The mountain rumbles on,
a giant oblivious to smartphones
or the small furry creatures
swallowed inside of them.

###

Passing A Bin Room Wall Nearby

Drink cans are stuffed
in the bin room wall
like stacks of coffins
in a mausoleum.
A shrike’s bloody hoard.
Perhaps the cleaner
tiptoes around them,
afraid he’ll be added.
Another trophy
baring warnings
on the whiteboards of his eyes.