Nick lives on the south coast of England with his partner and their dog. He works locally at a garden centre for adults with learning disabilities.
A PLEA FROM ENHEDUANNA
Lady, whose eyebrows of woven obsidian, scalloped an arc for the tumbling suns - whose palms, diaphanous, spread the stars, who twirls the axis mundi - your wide brow carries a glistening bow, your belly, too, bears moonlight.
Pick up my scent in the endless wastes,
honour my journey,
know my exile,
hand me the thread which leads to your fountain. Lady of the thunderous rains, whose thoughts bestride the poles of time - who wades through stone and mantle, you turn your lovers’ hearts to ash and the knees of kings to water, you saw me crawl in the ochre dust, ushered from Uruk’s gates, torn from Akkad’s temples.
Pick up my scent in the endless wastes, honour my journey, know my exile, hand me the thread which leads to your fountain. Lady, your glance was carved from lightening, Queen of the ziggurat heights. Your atramentous tresses fall, cascade, to breasts of ivory inset with lapis lazuli - succour for hawk and king.
Pick up my scent in the endless wastes,
honour my journey,
know my exile,
hand me the thread which leads to your fountain. Lady, your form is mighty; your spittle is the sea, your ribcage is a mountain range, the zodiac, your milky sash, lies lustrous on your hips. Your calves are coiled with mating snakes, your fearless bellow splits the sky
and herds the bulls of heaven. Lady, I burn in the desert,
while griffons wheel in the sky, I, your priestess, live for you. Honour my journey, know my exile, hand me the thread which leads to your fountain. Lady, your fingers, rayed as cartwheels, puncture midnight’s bowl, whilst far below your quick feet bathe
in poured, perfumed libations. The comets burst from your cuticles, your whimsies sport with fate. Lady, I pace through bleeding rock. honour my journey, know my exile, hand me the thread which leads to your fountain.