less wizened afternoon
with smoky pain
rain drains away
swirls of branches tentacle blue
elusive guardian
nothing I would ask
always pre-empted
juice fades halo on the skin
nothing so relaxed as alive
hint of your breath as it comes
as sin ordinary holy everywhere
prayer incubates
air from the tunnel
slipping doors at the harbour
let me swallow my sentence


Popular Posts

Questions, but no answers: while editing a manuscript

Viva the Real - shortlisted!

‘The fast fold of fret lines’: Intimacy, ecopoetics, and the local