Synapse

Filigree of trace linesnerve endings, optic fibres;visions absorbed and re- absorbedinverted commas, colons: semi -quaverspink suns spinning in motionless heavensign behind the line that you have understood.Invalid projections bounce from fine encountersthe witness takes a breath,you hold out your hands again and againoffering love in thin disguisesserendipity formed from glass towerstrusting in the synapses,figurines defying their cracked shelter.Outside noise interjects…..if you had known better you could havecaught the jet between usturned it into gold for children’s entertainment.Buffeting like treesleaves snap shouldersbody screams from faded brake padslose of impulsion on early autumn daysVirgoan light humming straight-jacket of disorder,I can see forever in the tree line, perspective dark as cancerwhich no shame will dislodge.We are true to our restrictions,I enact your infidelities, you are loyallike a well loved undergarment hugging my contoursclinging in an umbilicus of insistencelistening to the blood call; with it’s sugar, with it’s salt.Life rides me again and againdemanding a clear pathway,you coming later understood betterhave caught sooner, the thread we’ve yet to own.I have denied the notion,denied three timesthe possibility of a versionborne my thorns with masochistic prideset you free to prophecyto the unknown.