Sunday, 4 September 2011


for Chris and Holly - and Kayleigh

I follow a trail
of broken heels
and torn stockings
to find you,
my right cheek
red raw;
my love
blistering with pain.

To hold you violently,
kiss you deeply,
impart to you
the utter delight and despair
you work
as you pluck me up,
move me about the land.

We dance clumsily,
hold each other up
by our haunches,
drink until drinking’s done,
fight our way into our bed,
sleep till wakeful-spun,
run when waiting comes,
sing the chorus
of our blazing love.

I’ve trudged through pits of cigarette ash;
swum through endless oceans of vodka;
juggled the hot coals of your eyes;
been pierced by your temperament,
your slings and arrows ever sharper,
ever more the narrow.
I’ve breathed the thickest smoke,
sweeter than alpine air,
and I’ve throttled despair.

I follow a trail
of broken heels
and torn stockings,
palm your small feet
like wax pears,
kiss your hair,
show you what I cannot say,
gesture my words away.

We clash like sea and headland,
crumble to the deepest depths
of the bluest love.

No comments:

Post a Comment