Hot Rod

fast and furious
archangel in paint and chrome
brings me home —
purring megaphonious,
combusting with sav and sap
that i glimpse
peeking into warm grill chintz —
then she lifts her corset bonnet
and lets me touch her glinting bones
secreting home spun
attracting, like moon and sun —
and mnemonic
old senses,
fallow and fenced
soon become drenched
quiller and squirter
in that linguistic converter —
glow mapping,
slowly blown
in the metronome.



STRIDER MARCUS JONES is a poet, law graduate and ex civil servant from Salford/Hinckley, England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. A member of The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry are modern, traditional, mythical, sometimes erotic, surreal and metaphysical. He is a maverick, moving between forests, mountains and cities, playing his saxophone and clarinet in warm solitude. His work has appeared in Crack the Spine, The Lampeter Review, A New Ulster, Ygdrasil and Don’t Be Afraid: An Anthology to Seamus Heaney. Feel free to learn more about his work.


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