not all thatís silver glitters       is piscean

a trick    (no doubt).    no cracks

you step from the window



pass through rain clouds of glass

the bookshop retreats
to its trench of white fungus

we shake hands

            my fingers          talk           by showing 


             and you stuff them away

for safety


in Hiruharama

there are no Mormons singing       no men

poking the soil for wives       or divining for aquifers

percolating cordials to the sea

my viewpoint is ecumenical
I have grown a beard           for the ladies
long hair for the shop


no one seems to be digging escape routes any more

a reflection of you
obscures all that I was hoping for

my fingers talk about decoding one manís interpretation

you pin pieces of the universe to your body

youíre rapt

you wear them       like needles in the flesh/      

                                  like splinters of bone


a hill fits awkwardly into this picture

            of flying fish

      not all thatís silver          glitters        is piscean

                 not everything comes hollowed out /        unmarked 

                       desperate to be filled


Iain Britton has had poetry published in such magazines as Agenda, Stand, The Reader, Warwick Review, The Wolf Magazine, Nthposition, Blackbox Manifold, The Tower Journal, Scythe Literary Journal, Leafe Press, Horizon Review, The Literateur, Reconfigurations, Harvard Review, BlazeVOX, Drunken Boat, Zoland Poetry, Upstairs at Duroc, Jacket, and the International Exchange for Poetic Invention. He has work forthcoming in Moloch Journal, Anything, Anymore, Anywhere, The Black Herald Press, and Pool. Oystercatcher Press (UK) published his third poetry collection in 2009, Kilmog Press (NZ) his fourth in 2010. The Red Ceilings Press (UK) published an ebook, 10 Poems, earlier this year.