the seabed still remembers
sunlight upon its skin
pirouette upon rusted blades
across scorched streets
dissolve into the spray
of their own sparks
rust and ash
pollen and snow
we breathe in
the dark of each other
a blizzard of butterflies
the cry of church bells
across the city
serpents of scent
wrapped round your wrists
walking with you
turned fields
into prairies
leaves become
same colour
as the fire
that made them fall
I think of the shadows we could have created
floorboards laid together
the seams of dark between us
thick with spilled stars
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
heart a grate
full with ash
carried out
to the garden
on a warm
windy night
sunlight and midnight
lines the inside
of our chests
light a candle
with me
all night
we’ll watch
the lowering
of the flag
of its flame
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
silver poplars shiver
with the echo of light
wind gathers in the trees