share the snowfall
from a streetlight with you
shoulders dusted with shine
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
the susurrus
of your lost
long song
the smoke
of my soul
lost
what I’ve not even
found
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
glass the gatekeeper
asks the sky
if they’re on the list
in perpetual twilight
slow as dream time
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
in another field
skylarks sleep
wings taking root
in the earth
I’ve been out watching moths
wings made from buddleia petals
brains the ghosts of embers
edges still lit
threads a fuse
we breathe in
the dark of each other
stars born
from the sparks
of figure skaters
figure eighting
upon the dark ice
of deep space
you’re the moth-eaten moths of memory
the torn tapestry of my life
its seams of moonlight
scars become skin