Irish spring

Spring came suddenly this year
it might have been your smile
the sadness in your eye
the way you understood
just how love might be.

Yes spring came leaping up to me
trees encrusted green
smell of hybrid earth
colours bursting through
as if the whole of nature knew

you fell in love with me.

I can’t say how summer might be
the yellow of rape seed
the blue scarf of the sea
the rustling of wheat field
painting candy coloured dreams

that echo through the years
of this first spring.

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Sacred space

It’s in-between
the words:, your lies
you strive to entertain
as truth.

It’s sitting in the space
across the table face
this magic that decides
on ‘’you and I.’’

There’s nothing can contain
I search it with my smile
lose it with the smudge of lust
that’s clogging up your eye

Don’t ask me to explain
this attitude of mine
that psyche can’t be bound
by mind

& love can’t be defined
& miracles can happen
worlds be overturned
by something so refined

I feel it in the space
that shroud you hide behind
yes something in – between
is calling out to me

just listen.

Some kind of crucifiction

There’s a small tick
at the corner of your mouth
where it plummets into sadness
muscles dropped beneath the skin
stretching each and every year
to a sculpture wrought with slackness.
Here the lines are sharp engrained
like paper mache puppets
telling us just where you’ve been
and how the weather claimed you.

………………………………………………………………………………………

Shadows writhe on city streets
you hold the smell of mountains
sky so blue it filched the tint
from your eyes leaving us staring into opaque
hardness wondering what is missing:
trying to find a meaning.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

There’s a small tear in your side
we’re not talking about
the blood of Christ,
but something similar.
After the Ave Marias
no holy water can assuage your thirst
and the two robbers on either side
simply take up space.

……………………………………………………………………………………

Perfumed oils
heat of desert sun
cacophany of tombs
revisiting
my lost extension.

My heart

I’d like my heart back please,
although it’s old and battered
certainly is no piece of designer wear.

While it still beats I need to put it back
where it belongs and heal the tears.

I’d like my heart back please
& that piece of soul
you’ve been using as a spare

to buoy you up, to fill your step
drive the motor of desire.

I’d like my heart back please
yours I returned,
(a narcissistic shade of red,)

some time ago….
.but you didn’t seem to notice.

I’d like my heart back please
if it’s not too late I want to find
a sacred place to keep it safe,

& will promise faithfully to me
that it won’t see the light of love again
until I’m free.

Snow morning

Snow takes no hostages
coats the land in wedding band
silent mesmerising nuptial
sea of frozen water.

It came stealthily in the night
like you used to, hugging contours
settling in folds reaching into crevices
long disused.

The thaw will come as quickly
one minute robed in paradise:
the next a puddle of distrust
turning bright crystals to common mud

leaving mirage memory of perfection.

February sun

Sun pale like the down on your face
almost imperceptible: glancing off tree bark
hovering in cool strip skipping
through frosted woods.

Dead leaves underfoot
heart in hibernating peace
gone to a place where nothing moves
locked in a sepulchre far from here.

Last night I thought I’d write
but quickly realized (as the old moon
stared through blank black space)
yes I quickly realized there’s nothing there.

Sun pale like a young child’s hair
glancing off dead things as if warmth
had never been as if there wasn’t
a ‘’you and me’’

I watched it stroke the trees
wondering if next year
I’d still be sitting here remembering
the way it might have been

before the winter claimed us.