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The uneven colour of love;

a waxed tribute to the thrown-flame,

 the blood hot coming growing cool.

 

Remembering:

 

something ripped something broken

slowly and silently and tearfully

as morning frost against the migratory

punch of a fossil sun...

 

( and you might say the sun stands still,

that all else turns away – and I might say

the truth is some other thing)

 

Close your eyes:

feel the chafing of thought -

the fibre of nebulous thighs -

those thoughts typing terse

tepid tongues inside you –

DNA desire exposed -

a press-stud, melting

 

There was gold:

there was the fervour in your smile -

the long legged warmth wrapped

all-round, completely.

The long summer between hands

in coitus through feral fields

hastening our pace towards

moonlight.

 

( and you will recall that I often

said nothing out loud (but)

always a kaleidoscope rattled

inside – my heart fit to flood

with love)

 

Remembering...

 

Black trees scratching the air

naked and knotted; time tattered

under feet too heavy to lift

into the crisp clear moments

where winter breathes and swallows

dart dispersed and unseen rivers.

 

METHOD:

Take a flat brown paper sheet –

Fold it

end to end

Fold it

Fold it

 Into an arrow -

Bow it

through time

And it will fall somewhere -

Flat.

 

Remembering:

 

(you said memories were dreams good and

bad -they were not real ,and I said that real

is all we can feel in memory or right now –

    you just laughed)

 

A lit coffee lounge: fluorescents flickered

out of pace with skin and exposed

animated cracks, fissures fault. Desire

 percolated desire. Three tables away

 your aide scribbled caffeine fuelled

 notes as you slowly sipped

and shot fire into my widening eyes.

 

The bed lay open – a fresh white sheet

cooling in the mid-morning air

striding through the half open window

shouting to the sun and begging

it to stay.

 

Your mouth bird song:

a chorus of different tunes

here and here -

a chorus

 

Your hands unseen

secret form –masked movement

here and here -

an arras

Traffic lights coughed colours

a cacophony of sound, MRI spikes

of a world going somewhere

going nowhere again and again.

And the lights will cough.

And the horns will hoot.

And the sirens swirl their sound.

 

(Remember I said “I love you” in

 a moment so dense with life the

words just hit the ground blew

round and round

and scattered separately

 beneath leaf mold, isolated.)

 

Close your eyes:

feel the chafing of thought

my mouth against your shoulder

warm and soft

firm and full upon you.

Sun, here and here

In these sheets

In your hair

On my back

White hot blindfold

 On your eyes.

 

An endless endless throb

Worn here – ripped here

Because I love you.

 

Debbie Walsh