my sight sand-blasted
I see deserts
stared at by the sun
for too long
oceans of slow glass
a sea of seals
diving into each other’s
molten bodies
I see you
the suits of shadows
lined with gold
you’re the moth-eaten moths of memory
the torn tapestry of my life
its seams of moonlight
scars become skin
my hand a sparrow
dreaming in the bowl
of your palm
I miss the tenderness
of being near you
your body soaked
in star and sea light
the sighs
from stroked shores
I write to you
to keep you near me
miss the sea glass
crumbling sunlight
in your eyes
knowing fire
through the smoke
of your songs
the tantrums
of your tenderness
how your steps
slowed
to match mine
light soaked into
a longed-for letter
never sent
never written
curtains need the breeze
to touch the room
a little more
stilled by all the sunlight
held in your skin
a cobweb of strings
poured from the cross
that control our limbs
leaves become
same colour
as the fire
that made them fall
you’re the leaves that foxtrot
with the tatters of a plastic bag
in the blustery corner of my deserted courtyard
become young again
twirled by the world-weary wind
that still remembers how to dance
worn away with waking