curtains need the breeze
to touch the room
a little more
curtains wait for a breeze
so they can breathe again
took shelter
in the shadows
beyond the lamps
miss the sea glass
crumbling sunlight
in your eyes
knowing fire
through the smoke
of your songs
the tantrums
of your tenderness
how your steps
slowed
to match mine
a tree shakes off
a torrent of rain
dipped its head
in the sky
the poplars are still
silver shivers inside
ripples repeating themselves
within the pillars
of their trunks
watched the wind
read the fields
each blade of grass
a word
your flame throws bird shadows
over the walls of my heart
that have never known sky
don’t know how
to write about you anymore
I’ll let silence sing
lost
what I’ve not even
found
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
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
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
I’ve been out watching moths
wings made from buddleia petals
brains the ghosts of embers
edges still lit
threads a fuse