share the snowfall
from a streetlight with you
shoulders dusted with shine

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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

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the susurrus
of your lost
long song
the smoke
of my soul

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lost

what I’ve not even

found

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you’re the leaves that foxtrot
with the tatters of a plastic bag
in the blustery corner of my deserted courtyard
become young again
twirled by the world-weary wind
that still remembers how to dance

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glass the gatekeeper
asks the sky
if they’re on the list

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in perpetual twilight
slow as dream time

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my hand a sparrow
dreaming in the bowl
of your palm

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I miss the tenderness
of being near you
your body soaked
in star and sea light
the sighs
from stroked shores

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in another field
skylarks sleep
wings taking root
in the earth

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I’ve been out watching moths
wings made from buddleia petals
brains the ghosts of embers
edges still lit
threads a fuse

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we breathe in
the dark of each other

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stars born
from the sparks
of figure skaters
figure eighting
upon the dark ice
of deep space

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you’re the moth-eaten moths of memory
the torn tapestry of my life
its seams of moonlight
scars become skin

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