TWO POEMS by DANIEL SKENTELBERY
Cigarette Buds
I drive her around town
like the way she drives me crazy.
In my uncle’s old motor,
which he did me for a steal,
a black Coupé.
We go around by the pubs,
all five of them but come out with nought.
past the bookies, the chippy,
past the men’s club,
Sally’s inexplicably successful wool shop,
not that we expected to find anything there.
Past the shop. Just a sec- I pull up- jump out.
And nab it before the well-to-do man has the gall
to step out my find.
Looking fresh, what a find!
I jump back in and show her my glory.
“There’s a few pulls left on that,”
She draws it up to her mouth and I light it up.
She exhales and I breathe it in.
“You are good to me,” she says.
The Maroon Cabin and a Photo of Natalie Portman
In front of the lit fireplace, Susie Ward
(a happy soul) fixes motorcycle engines.
A saxophonist plays a borrowed saxophone;
in the cabins most darkest corner. They’re
playing to a framed photo of Natalie Portman
which sits above the fireplace.
Susie looks up to Portman’s perfect face
from time to time for inspiration.
Saxophonist, drifts and wavers, swaying to their own
curious melodies, lost in Portman’s big brown eyes.
In time, the saxophonist’s face, slowly shifts away from their head.
Gliding away: floating around the cabin. Susie wafts it from her,
directing it into the fire. She watches it melt into the flames.
The saxophonist continues, his instrument
welded to his featureless head. His hair falling away
and skin flaking. Brass, gold flakes.
A saxophone, floating in the corner of the cabin,
playing a most beautiful lost tune.
Susie looks up to Natalie Portman, who’s trying
to help repair the motorcycle engine.
“You don’t know what you’re doing, let me,” Susie insists.
Portman speaks in whistles, out of time against the saxophone.
“[Indistinct whistling]” Portman smiles, with teeth.
Perfect teeth. Perfect smile, “[Indistinct Whistling]”.
She stands up; stroking hair, then stands up.
She goes to lay out on the settee.
Everything falls horizontal.
Daniel Skentelbery (he/him) is a writer, English tutor, and occasional performer. He has just completed his PhD at Keele University and has a love for anything strange and spooky. Whilst he tends to write poetry, he has also dabbled with screenplays and adventure game books.