curtains wait for a breeze
so they can breathe again
a candle burned
flame sunk
into the column
of its body
tears viscous
with lives lost
cum cloudy
with ghosts
of lives
never lived
leaves become
same colour
as the fire
that made them fall
songs soft as September
whispers through the grass
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
heart a grate
full with ash
carried out
to the garden
on a warm
windy night
the tear
of the candle flame
sharpened
like a sable brush
pinched to a point
by the lips
of the sky
that refuses
to let it fall
the column
of its body
turns clear
before the soft chorus
of smoke
pulled
from its scorched
throat
in another field
skylarks sleep
wings taking root
in the earth
rooms lit by storms
and midnight snow
dandelions
became sunflowers
heads bowed
by the weight
of their manes
beneath summer sun
share the shadow
of a brolly with you
within its soft circle
we’ll listen to the rain
in each other
you speak in song
sing to the robin
about how your heart
rusted red
a tree shakes off
a torrent of rain
dipped its head
in the sky
worn away with waking