Blades

by Jon Stone

This way, all of you. This way.

Let’s move. Let’s go. Let’s dance.

Rescue mission. The burning forest,

rotors ploughing ash in smoke-pelted night –

all lull to your airlocked heart.

It’s pure bloody graft and duty, pal. Jobbing.

You do it well, of course. Think,

act, mid-air. Dash-manoeuvre cutely.

But flight dulls you. Take-off blows.

You’re a mad-hot hack, a club mis-dealt.

— —

The dirty duel, dim-lit or in scissor spotlight.

Heat signature a plumy aurora,

brain a bright blot.

You, the dust, a skullsy backdraft rattle.

Flash your fuel-polished knuckles,

their glow of burning frost.

You do it well: loop and hook,

evade club-ugly blows.

Focus.           Action.

This way, all of you. This way.

Let’s move. Let’s go. Let’s dance.

Aimed,

jammed home.

Cut.

JON STONE is a writer and editor who specialises in hybrid forms, sequences and collaborations, a “poet of fantastic inversions” (Poetry London). He won an Eric Gregory Award in 2012 and the Poetry London prize in 2014 and 2016.