Love is like an allotment

Love is like an allotment

brambles uncoil
like barbed wire
chokes the grass
buds turn to clots
scratches criss-cross
our thin wrists
fingerprints grouted
teeth stained
with each other’s blood

it can feed your family
a place to sip tea
watching the sun
slip from the sky
while woodsmoke
wraps our wrists
with a ribbon
weaves itself
into our clothes

in a shadowed corner
a cornflower blazes blue
a pilot light

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: