you were the wren
that led me
through the reeds
that stroked my sides
feathered my face
star charts
blueprints
for starlings
scars like lips sewn shut
kiss without tongue
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
scarred skin
doesn’t collapse
when carved
your flame throws bird shadows
over the walls of my heart
that have never known sky
I’ve been out watching moths
wings made from buddleia petals
brains the ghosts of embers
edges still lit
threads a fuse
sky packed too tight
bruised blue
needs to split itself open
thunder the wedge
hammered into the heart
of the stone
of the sky
lost
what I’ve not even
found
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
the ghost of fireflies
froth from the fractured minds
of the thistles
the burning breeze
flakes the fields
the hinges of your heart
sprinkles rust like pollen
as the dark wind of your blood
squeezes through its doors
left ajar
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
fairy lights flickered
when no one was watching
woodsmoke curled to sleep
in the grass