This last orbit of Sicilian suns
rounds my bowl’s deep glaze.
Tonight, I’ll thumb
fine-crater peel, curl waste
satellites beside hearts.
Inside, a virus flickers
sparklets, scarlets into smiles.
Everything erupts with two faces
at least. Before this puce season
I’ll squeeze them, wersh them,
sharpen pancakes, but I offer
no wish to be shriven.
Let the queasy buy rubies, not blood.
Beth McDonough has a background in Silversmithing and teaching, completing her M.Litt at Dundee University. Recently Writer in Residence at Dundee Contemporary Arts, she reviews for DURA. Her work is strongly connected to place, particularly to the Tay, where she swims. Handfast, (with Ruth Aylett, May 2016) explores both autism and dementia.