my sight sand-blasted
I see deserts
stared at by the sun
for too long
oceans of slow glass
a sea of seals
diving into each other’s
molten bodies
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 don’t think about the thorns
I think about the blackberries
of your love
how they reveal the labyrinths
of my fingerprints
that touches the dark
trying to find your face
curtains need the breeze
to touch the room
a little more
your songs shriveling
to scent
in another field
skylarks sleep
wings taking root
in the earth
held together
by threadbare threads
my frayed feathers
stroke the sky
from the ground
bells hold onto
all the peals struck
from the dark
of their bodies
a forever home for shadows
hung in the wind
that whips whispers
from their stillness
words brighter
than the paper
they scar
is love
the performers
performing for themselves
a slow show
once the wings
of the main show
packed away
instruments played gentle
as injuries
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
there is another show
long after
the main event
the cacophony of clowns
become stroked cymbals
the trapeze artist
tiptoes over the camber
of the milky way
suspended in a puddle
the human cannonball
curls like a cat into its crater
dreams of petri dishes
blooming with flowers
the sword swallower
lets the hilt lay in their hand
for a little while
before laying the blade
amongst the blades of grass
starlight soaks into the steel
the juggler
stands the pins before the fire
their faceless faces watch
the feathers of flames
smudges tears over shy smiles
the contortionist
hugs their knees
unwinds a story into the pool
of their shadow
the fire breather
feels the smoke
feeling its way
through the dark of their body
fingers soft as silk
in the morning
just the footprint of the fire
where god
stubbed out their cigar
or
where an elephant
bruised the earth
balancing upon one foot
its trunk
held onto air
my heart
more cave and cavity now
waiting for the collapse
where you try to excavate
your encrypted heart
I wanted to touch the scars
upon your clawed at chest