star charts
blueprints
for starlings
stories to temper steel to
when the story falls silent
the folds folded
asleep inside the blade
the horizon howled
snow swept the streets
the susurrus
of your lost
long song
the smoke
of my soul
daylight crashes
against the skylight
woodsmoke laces the air
with the cream
of its song
smoke splices its tongue
more surface area
to taste the dark
a draft drifts
through your fingers
fields of grass
tickles your palms
muzzle of a dog
wet for a walk
dandelions detonate
within your dreams
sky wakes you
sings through
the letterbox
my favourite bit
when you appeared
around the bend
at the end of my street
come to meet me
the ghost of gold
on an autumn night
stitched together
with neon thread
your black dress
splashed by the sirens
from the cries of the city
your red heels
sparked the sealskin
of the pavement
drains choked with fire
stars born
from the sparks
of figure skaters
figure eighting
upon the dark ice
of deep space
sparrows dream songs
within the walls
you’re the last light of the year
the late light of the day
that touches the old fire
that still clings to the tips of the trees
in my haunted park
you’re the green fronds of fire
that grouts the cobbled back streets of my heart
the bright butterflies still being born
from the braided shadows of brambles
blossom become sentient
snow leopard
born from a dead fire
after snow
sprinkled its spell
upon it
fur of flint
so cold
you don’t spark
the ghost of green
haunts your eyes
as you haunt the mountains
everything is ash
fire whispers to you
in your dreams
you haunt the mountains
of my mind
carry secrets through storms
piss upon rocks
the scent of smoke
no matter how long it takes
endure the cold stare of stars
find my fire
let us see green again
by looking into each other’s eyes
pirouette upon rusted blades
across scorched streets
dissolve into the spray
of their own sparks
rust and ash
pollen and snow