above Mount Agung
the moon is an egg
crushing inside a fist
against raw cinder,
foreign bugs flapping
against netting

we lay naked,
and bronze skeletons dance
in the shallow waters
of an oyster farm

the jungle reticent and recoiling
from the claws of a cat
as I arch my back

a whimper climbing up over the walls
that don’t touch the ceiling

scurrying off into the undergrowth

Amed

Nana

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Thomas

Due to formatting constraints, this poem is best viewed on desktop.

Jason Lingard (he/him) is a writer and designer from Te Whanganui-a-Tara Wellington. He has had work published with Circular, Rat World, Troublemaker Firestarter, Tarot, & Change Journal, Overcom, and Bad Apple.