Pelting rain adheres to soil
As spiders sprint and earthworms roil,
World in turmoil stinkbugs, stink
And Satan beetles disgorge ink
But thee, my budding, sodden flea,
Hath entertained quiescent....me.
M.

your presence lingers
not in grand gestures
but in the spaces in between

your smile filling my kitchen
with a warmth that remained
long after the coffee grew cold
and my cup was empty

the place still set for you,
as if you would walk in, sit down,
and make everything
feel a little more whole

the way we spoke on the subway
our words mingling like passengers
clinging to the rails
never quite ready to part ways

the way things look too clean…too still
not just your toothbrush
but the mess you made of my heart
gone

how lovely it was
to have your things scattered among mine
a forgotten sock
your glasses on the nightstand
a sign this space was ours
once

the scent of your shampoo hovers
an echo of you in the quiet
I breathe you in, eyes closed
wishing you were here
to wrap the night around us
turning off the world together
leaving only us
together in the stillness

I grew up by the beach
Air salt and sunscreen
Houses squat on dunes
Calendar in scratchy sand
All yellows and brindle

Winter scored in cactus ketch-groans
Summer seagull soundtrack
Snake sunbakes
Kikuyu crunches

Now home is hillside
Rosemary jasmine breeze
Every pane a picture
Year parades in colour
All purples and greens

Spring exits in lily lavender
Soft sepia summer
Auburn autumn
Jade July

And in unison agave flower
Invisible itinerary
Monocarpic masts
Noble nativity

Curtains to overture
In purples and greens

Jam-packed case for just-in-cases
       No way of knowing when you gotta jam

Loafers with no-loafing laces
No-track tracksuit for no traces
Boxing boxers, bracing braces
       Wool-coated trench coat for time on-the-lamb

Racewear dress for dressy races
Full-face mask to hide full faces
High-pace sneakers, sneaky paces
       Bent scrambling helmet if hellbent to scram

Sleeveless tanks for arm-y bases
High-jump jumpers for high places
No-halt halter, hasty chases
       Hoodwinker hoodie obscures who I am

Jam-packed case for just-in-cases
       No way of knowing when you gotta jam

I'm not an 'ingénue' anymore - that’s been vitiated.
I'm not innocent, pure, naive or vulnerable -
which are technically, 'ingénue' requirements
(I don’t make the rules).

That being said, if no one has an objection,
in terms of narrative trajectory, I'd like to be
considered a 'fémme fatale' until further notice.
.
.
Songs for this:
HEATED by Beyoncé
Hysterical Us by Magdalena Bay

11am 08.12

when 2 birds standing on
2 different high tension wires kiss
love is short.

you wanted me to tattoo your name on my back.
"but who would see?" I asked.
"you just don't get it, " you screamed,
"you don't ever get it."
and you smashed a glass
on the worn rug.

it was a velvet rug
with a picture of elvis
painted across it
meant to be hung on the wall
and when the wind parted the curtains
the shards sparkled like stars...

...they say the human heart
weighs 3/4 quarters of a pound
and scientists have found
in a tomb in egypt
the heart of cleopatra
shriveled like leather.
bitterness
can preserve a heart for eternity...

...but it's closing time at the bar
and outside in the cold, cold snow,
outside in the snow
my darling
one last time
i'll **** your name.