I’ve been out watching moths
wings made from buddleia petals
brains the ghosts of embers
edges still lit
threads a fuse
words brighter
than the paper
they scar
you speak in song
sing to the robin
about how your heart
rusted red
you were the wren
that led me
through the reeds
that stroked my sides
feathered my face
leaves become
same colour
as the fire
that made them fall
curtains need the breeze
to touch the room
a little more
fairy lights flickered
when no one was watching
woodsmoke curled to sleep
in the grass
silhouettes pirouette
with the shadows
of marionettes
to know light from my pages
reflected into your face
sunk into the sea glass of your eyes
to know light from your face
snowed blossom into the dark
of my words
the hinges of your heart
sprinkles rust like pollen
as the dark wind of your blood
squeezes through its doors
left ajar
the seabed still remembers
sunlight upon its skin
stars born
from the sparks
of figure skaters
figure eighting
upon the dark ice
of deep space
caves will call
to the sky
sky will become
ceiling
took shelter
in the shadows
beyond the lamps