B. R. Dionysius Poems

Three ruby jewelled seeds
free fall between the pomegranate's
cosmetically enhanced skin
& the forefinger of the pre-pubescent
...

He whistled to her & like an inquisitive dog
The bowl of her head angled, a satellite dish
To receive the new music. She was muttering
Away in some mimic’s foreign language when
...

The arms of his spiral galaxy were not punctured

With bright stars, but with buckets of bore water
...

To some we’re the polka-dotted red menace;

We are feared for our beliefs, blood sacrifice
...

A power as diluted as the monarch’s they were named for;
Their colonial reach across the border, tempered by more
Indigenous agitators, the great unwashed mass of noisy miners
...

Fire cleanses more than memory; a bad
Season will clear out tussock grass without
A backward glance. The charred ‘calling logs’
Where males wrought sound waves into fine
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The first thing Helen says is,
‘If any of you touch me,
it’s assault’.
Their first session
...

Sometime,
in the early hours
of the morning,
an albino cockroach
...

The ocean is the oldest cliché.

When we came home there was
...

(Roxanne daydreams on Crete.)
There, that island crouched down
ready to pounce on the blue Mediterranean
...