Tarmac melts

rain bursts like

 

popcorn:

 

We are dried up

separated seeds

 

dispersed.

 

Land like stone

horse’s hooves

 

split

 

all hope drifts

lost in grey mornings.

 

‘Waiting’

becomes seven

 

syllables

tattooed in blood.

 

Hush descends,

school gates open

 

& all our sunburnt

children stream in

 

buttoned tight

for learning.

 

Late tomatoes

ripen on the stem

 

shelves burst

with them &

 

my words again

obsolete;

 

pen poised

for another dive

 

into darkness.

I walk on bones &

the path whispers,

 

‘blood’.

 

Stuck between inside & out

there is no time of day

 

I walk behind your before

listen to the tinkling of the bells.

 

The Angel of the Moon

watches you sleep:

 

perfection is a word

minted for you.

 

Stranger’s jostle

no attention to detail:

 

your detail is diminished

there is no up or down

 

I’ve turned from love

into the deep unknown

 

echo of this.

 

 

Willows bend & swipe

like horse’s tails

 

sky bellows thunder:

 

turning of the year

summer swelter morphs

 

into cool morning.

 

Each night

the planets burn,

 

dead worlds that shine

so bright from distant past

 

as if

 

cradled in suspension.

 

You ask for words,

I have none:

 

just a bursting

of my heart

 

as corn winds high

fruit ripens on the limb

 

a whinny at the gate,

life unfurls each dawn

 

febrile in its mystery.