Murder Weapons, Series 3, Number 7: Icicle
Always plunged, not swung as with the sickle
or ice-axe, and never ever by lackeys
but by oneself, hilt-deep into the silk
centre or through a window in the skull.
It is the best of all weapons to slake
a certain thirst for mingling colours:
Plump Berry and Terrible Alaska.
A favourite of compassionate killers.
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Posted by Jon Stone
I have a poem in the latest issue of Pomegranate, alongside new work from James Midgley, Joe Dunthorne, Sam Riviere, Nicholas Lui and others, and a review of Identity Parade by John Clegg. The editorial lightly takes me to task for not paying attention to the theme of 'ice', so I thought I'd write a belated ice-themed piece in honour of the continuing strength of this singular poetry e-zine: