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Under a Soup-Pot Sky


The clouds stewed

In a soup-pot sky, puffing

And sighing out songs

They’d been writing

All winter. The birds sunned

Themselves until their

Bodies shone sleek and black;

They woke up the melting sky

With the shock of

A thousand dark eyes. And

Our little flesh feet, they grew

Pink and scalding on

The hotplate pavement

As we danced and danced

To the tunes of the

Simmering sun.




You wear your heart like a

Shroud of gold across your chest,

You cry so much and so long

When you smile, it makes the sun

Fall back alive and the moon ache.

Illuminating dirty alleys, you walk

Noiselessly along the noisy streets

Until you come to the green

Of the square, kneel and take up

Fresh dirt in your hands. Your ochre

Tears glow around the edges, they

Drop wildflower, settle down

Warm like 50 shades of yellow in the ground,

Planting themselves into a new



City of Lights


A silent blinking undulating mass

Amber beads of gold upon

A blackdark sea, up from the air

And downwards early-rising,

Soft as the ripple

From the mourning dove’s

Weary little wing. Blink, city, and glitter,

Shiver, darling, and swell —

Descend upon me in your golden madness

As I descend upon you with eyes

Gilded in the strange gems

Of your past.


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