by Kate Garrett
Ganesha offers a lotus from this temple wall
above prayer cushions draped in tangled knots
screen-print splayed over black sheets. Cave
paintings of Bruce Lee, skulls shot down in flames
remind us of what’s to come: faeries wearing
only their skin beckon you in to their Otherside.
The mantra here has no words; it is the sound
of a lantern filled with bees, a reclaimed hive
for the creation of sacred markings. It is the honey
bright fizz-buzz of a needle tip, supernatural.
Instead of incense, the scent of disinfectant
clings, anointing your wrist – bliss. Blessed.