Auburn hair of twigs and branches
blazed by scrimshaw of seductive suns
we left our bones, brittle, as tendril trails
to find our newly birthed nest
Bracken broken, adolescence breached
this loss crushed blackberries under bodies;
her arms reached beyond vestal boughs
and the murmured name on her lips
decorating the sky…was not mine
London night windows
boarded by memory mahogany
only reflected rushing police sirens,
forsaken by my nation for leaving
The clouds gave it their all
forty dreams and forty nightmares,
glass slithers between the rain spaces
merely the smash of every perditious bottle
Trying to read the braille
of the years between with no lucid sign,
but conjured back and forth by the moon
their faces are all in mine
Auburn hair of twigs and branches
it’s a long walk home, my dear,
when keys in my ‘left luggage’
were stolen by strangers
who called themselves lovers
