disjointed words and
tongue that are numb to icy
chattering teeth, cold
against the tender
roof of a bleakly set mouth
lips raw, tired as
the incessant maw of the
arctic tempest bites

You both rode your bicycles
to the small church
along the lane
and parked your bikes

against a tree
in the churchyard
out of sight from the lane
will there be anyone in there?

Milka asked
as you tried
the old wooden door
don't think so

people only come here
one Sunday in the month
you said
you opened the door

and walked in
it smelt of damp
and oldness
and no one was there

you walked up the aisle
and looked at the old pews
and stained glass windows
people still come here?

she said
guess so
you said
kind of old isn't it

you stood looking
back at her
her dark hair
brought into a ponytail

her jeans and green top
do you like the place?
you said
for what?

she said
to visit
you said
been to better places

she said moodily
thought you
were going to take me
somewhere

we could be alone
and kiss and such
she added
looking around the church

we are alone
you said
yes but hardly
the place to kiss

and do things
she said
we can kiss here
you said

then what?
she said
she walked down the aisle
looking about the place

you watched her
we could have ridden
to the pond place
and did more

she said
let's just sit
and get the feel
of the place

you said
she reluctantly walked
back to you
and you sat in

one of the pews together
I wonder how many couples
have walked down
this aisle as man and wife?

you said
a few unfortunate couples
I guess
she said

you smiled
some make a go of it
you said
don't get any ideas

she said
I'm not ready
for that stuff yet
do your brothers

still needle you
about going out
with me?
you asked

not any more
they got bored with it
in the end
besides you're

their friend
and I’m just their sister  
they said
you ought to see a quack

after going out with
she said unsmiling  
and my mother
trusts me with you

which is annoying
why annoying?
I wanted her to be worried
that I was doing things

and have her look at me
like I was a no good *****
you laughed
what for?

to see her reaction
she trusts me
you said
well she shouldn't

Milka said
not after
what we have been up to
it's not always

what you do
it's what people think you
do that makes them
judged you

you said
I don't like this place
she said
let's go elsewhere

ok
you said
and so you got out
of the pews

and walked out
of the church
and got on your bikes
and rode off

into the Saturday morning air
giving her moving hips
as she rode
a happy stare.

Mary wakes from
her, troubled, uneasy
sleep. She turns and
sees Alice behind her

looking at her. What
are you doing here?
she asks, sitting up,
looking down at the

child. Wanted to be
near you, Alice replies.
You can't come into

my bed, what will
they say if they find
you here? Mary's voice  
rises higher than she

meant. They won’t,
Alice says, no one
knows. They'll miss
you, Mary says, look

for you, and if they come,
what then? The child
sits up, rubs her eyes.
I'll hide, she says. Mary

sighs, lays back on the
bed, looks at the ceiling.
The child lies next to her,
head on her thin shoulder.

You can't do this, Alice.
But I have, the child says.
Your bed's lumpy. If they
find you in here, I’ll lose

my job and God knows
what'll happened then.
There is black spider
creeping along the dull

ceiling, slow movements.
We mustn't tell them,
Alice says. She runs a
small finger along

Mary's arm. You can't
stay here, Mary says,
you must go back to
your own bed before

they find you've gone.
Don't you love me any
more? Alice softly asks,
looking sideways at the

maid beside her. Yes,
of course I do, but this
mustn't happen again.
I'll be gone, then who

will you have to love,
now your mother's ill
and locked up? Alice
frowns and looked at

her hands, small, white,
pink. Mother used to
let me into her bed and
cuddle her. Her pink

fingers join and she
makes. I'm not your
mother, Mary says,
I’m just a maid who

wants keep her job.
Alice looks at her.
You said you'd be my
adopted mother. Mary

looks at her biting a lip.
Yes, I did. She looks
away, at the window
where lights begins

to show. All right,
but you must go back
now, before you're
missed. Can I come

another time? Alice
asks, her bright eyes
gazing. Yes, if I say so,
no creeping into my

bed at night unless
I know, Mary says.
Alice nods her head.
Best get back then,

she says. Be careful.
I will. And if I’m seen,
I’ll say I was sleep
walking, Alice says.

You mustn't lie, Mary
says. Should I tell them
the truth then? Alice asks,
smiling, getting down

from the bed. Be careful,
sleep walk just this once.
The child nods, opens the
door and closes with a

click. Mary gets out of
bed, opens the door, looks
along the dim passage.
The child has now gone.

Silence. Cold morning
air. A hard frost maybe.
What if she's seen? What
then? She shuts the door,

pours cold water from a
white jug into a white bowl.
Morning wash. Hands
into the water and throws

into her face. The coldness
wakes her. Far off a bird
sings. What if she's found
out of bed? What a turn up.

Poor kid. Me another mother
Nearby a church bell rings.

A forest fallen flat
in to the water bed,
of this extended lake
gives him a feeling of surreal
and yes, an immense sense of peace.

he sits there alone, quietly
peering at his cold narcissistic face
now, broken in to pieces by fish
curious to look at his face
by swimming around his reflected one.

After many cold winters
when at last one finds out
that mere reflections all are,
the face thought to be real,
and the reflection on water plane,
on the pool waters of time
that drains little by little,
liberation wings in like
a white dove, the harbinger
of the last good news.

The cuckoo
in the bamboo grove,
swaying from one side to the other
as the bamboo moves in the hands of wind,
on the clod water sheet, sings without sound,
the forest that grunts
like a wounded animal,
observes grave silence
in the other reality plane-
water spreads.
He watches in alert silence
a recluse in parallel realities
           he has awakened.

I’d love to be your pin-up Queen
(If you like those kinds of
Cobalt kiss-curl curves)

Legs in the air, little peep of underwear
Perfect, film star hair.
I’ll meet your hungry gaze
With my naughty starlet stare.

I’d love you loving me looking like that

i love you and i'm sorry because.
i do not love you the way
you are perfect(andyouare),
i love you the way you are not perfect. i love

you

the way

you are. i love you

the way you have felt sharpness
(between certain dark things).

And i love you the way
you are uncertain darkness
(between sharp things).

and i love you the way your strength is pain.

(and i love you the way i am sorry because).



And i'm sorry.

and i love you.