lamps wore away
at the dark
songs soft as September
whispers through the grass
the seabed still remembers
sunlight upon its skin
storm in the earth
night bright
with the peeled back
bellies of leaves
begging for the blade
you’re the barn owl
born from the ground bones of a bonfire
in the font turned firepit
at the heart of my crumbled cathedral
smoke splices its tongue
more surface area
to taste the dark
caves will call
to the sky
sky will become
ceiling
I miss the tenderness
of being near you
your body soaked
in star and sea light
the sighs
from stroked shores
heart a grate
full with ash
carried out
to the garden
on a warm
windy night
in perpetual twilight
slow as dream time
ghosts aren’t only
what has been
they’re also
what never happened
echo of songs
never sung
never listened to
how the wind
hisses a sigh
through the reeds
how the sea sings
far inland
the horizon howled
snow swept the streets
you’re the moth-eaten moths of memory
the torn tapestry of my life
its seams of moonlight
scars become skin