you are the stained light
staining the stone
the church ceiling
crumbled into cabbage whites
shadows shattered
into black butterflies
the scars from our dreams
sew us together
is love
the performers
performing for themselves
a slow show
once the wings
of the main show
packed away
instruments played gentle
as injuries
a gate
spills the garden
into the street
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
ghosts aren’t only
what has been
they’re also
what never happened
echo of songs
never sung
never listened to
walking with you
turned fields
into prairies
rooms lit by storms
and midnight snow
the hinges of your heart
sprinkles rust like pollen
as the dark wind of your blood
squeezes through its doors
left ajar
share the snowfall
from a streetlight with you
shoulders dusted with shine
your songs shriveling
to scent
the susurrus
of your lost
long song
the smoke
of my soul
you were the wren
that led me
through the reeds
that stroked my sides
feathered my face
leaves become
same colour
as the fire
that made them fall