because, you know
as I creep up the hard lines
of your palm, I leave behind
a trail of me
and as you squirm,
try to shake me off
I cling on, sticky sweet
gleaming in the glory
of the fading light
you give up, watch
as I make my way
to the tip of your finger
and I think it’s done
I’ve won.
A pale streak across
the sky ; yellow, like
an old woman’s tooth
mottled and stained
with time
there are clouds,
(dish water grey)
wet rags that
drag along a floor
and yet I see you,
tired and frail
head thrown back
trying to drown in
imaginary rain
the platform
eternal pausing, the shells
of smoked peanuts
scattered
drips of tea on the stone bench
cold, now
and as I watch the train pull away
dragging a bit of my heart
with each chug
across the littered tracks
there are questions
answers I don’t need
for now, I’m a blur
a thing-of-the-past
yours, a moment ago
when you ran your fingers
through my hair
as always, your fingers caught
in the tangled ends
and just like always
you left them like they were
there is this version for him and
another, and the other will
be this version for her
the insurgence of now
no matter where the fire
burned, the embers of
a long pause remain
breathe.
I lie here when I say
there is another train to catch
I will never reach
the same place
I will never know the place again
when it is bathed in us
nightfall -
laughter in the distance
there’s a song being sung
by the firelight somewhere
feet crushing, hands
slither up georgette
and now she can hear
those words turn
from empty meaning
into full moons
sheets rustle ending
years of seconds spent in silence
it took a verse of him
a chorus of her
the perfect note of them
fine rain in seven colours
there is light, can you see?
in the white
in the pale yellow
of the lamp on the floor
a strand of hair
split, lies dead
mourn the passing
of the passion
from which it fell
oh, do tell
as I imagine he must
treat you very well
until the first sign
wait, let me ring
that bell for you.
Old shoes scuffed
in places that once were
white as your teeth
on the day you brought home
the new shoes
New shoes still
shiny, still smell like
air tight boxes and tissue.
You wear them all the time,
everywhere, they squeak
like mice, like scared little mice
who chewed
the old shoes
Old shoes left
in another box, musty and dank
alone in the basement with the mice
who claimed them
on the day you brought home
the new shoes
