Charmaine Thomson lives in Wellington, New Zealand. Charmaine studied performance music and teaching in the past. She has been published in a range of New Zealand and American publications including the 4th Floor Literary Journal, A Fine Line, The Shot Glass Journal, The Blackmail Press and the Fib Review. Charmaine is interested in exploring the connections between instrumental composition, Neo Latin languages and performance.
Acquittal
It was safer inside
He loved her within the fences
She stayed small like parcels
left at the front door
He played the decades
as endless drones
on the lawnmower
to keep away the weeds
The house was kept
folded and tidy
so she needn’t worry
about going.
Indecipherable music
He invests in pain
risking his body for breaks
Holding heads in knotted cords
until the necks untie
Unfolding and leaning
he remembers
This untelling of bones
is an indecipherable music
No blunt traces
He threw her crockery out
ejecting her goods
and erasing all remnants
of their jointed home.
Her face caught the punch
but not her shoes
or the spoils
agreed by the court.
His house stands immaculate,
a well appointed garden
with a bleached roof
and no blunt traces.
