November nocturne
across the fields
upon the city streets
I can hear the soft pad
of piano chords
evaporating
wine has woken my blood
as wood in the woodstove
whispers sun from its skin
an ice-cream van
whimpers in its sleep
beneath the moon
that is dusting cold bread
I see your ghost
skating across puddles
in an empty car park
whilst in the dark of a drawer
two spoons spooning
slipping their reflections
into each other
and in the ticking dark
beneath an abandoned car
two cats curling together
against the failing heat
falling asleep
into dreams of dogs
lolloping through fields
tongues ribboning
from the sides
of their smiles
Shoals Of Starlings 