The Hunger (Ian McBryde)


Queen of corollas, borne up
on the deep green roll of foliage.
Your hunger is showing.
One last tremble has opened
your shoulders, bold as a whore.
You are self-betrayed by your
lazy grace, your sullen mouth,
the silken curl of your lip. This
arctic pose becomes you; poised,
motionless, each petal’s delicate,
opaque menace leaking pretty
secrets, instead of a scent.


The sweet uncoiling
of you.  Slither me,
she-scale my face,
leave your quivering
tail on my thigh
as you sleep.  I can
never pray with you,
but wrap around me.
Anacond me.  I will
remain your leanest|
prey, your eternal,
most nocturnal feast.

Ian McBryde (2) 1 (2)

image credit: Nicholas Walton-Healy

XXXXXXXX-born Australian poet Ian McBryde was born in XXXXXX in XXXX. He has had XXXpoetry collections published, among them XXXXXX and XXX XXXXXXXX XXXXX, which were short-listed for the XXX XXXX XX XXX XXXX and the XXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX’X prizes. McBryde has a ‘new and selected’ collection, entitled XX XXX XXXXXXX, coming out later this year from Australia’s XXXXXXXXXXX Press.