curtains need the breeze
to touch the room
a little more
a cobweb of strings
poured from the cross
that control our limbs
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
I think of the wish
whispered
into a wine bottle
at the end of a party
I wonder
when will it break
be set free
granted
will it be
when you most
need it
when your life
in more pieces
than the glass
than sand
a blizzard of butterflies
don’t know how
to write about you anymore
I’ll let silence sing
your heart
more scar than tissue now
you’re scarring the scars
beneath summer sun
share the shadow
of a brolly with you
within its soft circle
we’ll listen to the rain
in each other
sunlight and midnight
lines the inside
of our chests
in another field
skylarks sleep
wings taking root
in the earth
you are the stained light
staining the stone
the church ceiling
crumbled into cabbage whites
shadows shattered
into black butterflies
summer did not live
in that summerhouse
winter and spring
braided themselves there
the white of a waterfall
the moon hiding half its face
close the gate gentle
make it chime
close it like a delicate thing
as if just leaving
looking in
upon a sleeping child
isn’t that how hearts
should be handled
footsteps made faint
by grass
no knock required
no doorbell
rattling the rooms
just the soft cry
of a rusted hinge