we move
close to
the margin;
our love is wild.
The Train Seat
Limbs fold
into each other,
squeezing into
the train seat.
Instinct
A sharp instinct
for the smell of
roses and figs.
Bush Love
awkwardly beckon
for her love to move
into the bushes
The Whispering Piss
Crisp and cool,
cucumber love.
You’re brave venturing into the sunlight,
for it is not yet summer in your world.
Clumsily assembling the banana chair,
while neighbours take the whispering piss.
You look, sigh, and flash your bikini,
lounging in the 12-degree sunlight.
Travelling Thoughts
A wandering mind travels so far,
admiring your mineral collection.
Will we find planets like tourmaline?
My mind travels into the darkness,
hoping we find a place as Earth dies.
That Love
You never get over that love
that eats into your bones.
Such a love remains whole,
even when only dust remains.
Photos of You
Looking back through social media,
at life shared with someone else’s kin.
You imagine your parents naming you.
Daesyn will be her name. The beloved;
All while texting and typing their lives away.
The Curator
The Curator
of ancient cutlery admires
the knives and forks.
2 am
Awake again at 2 am,
creating worlds and having visions.
I tell myself I should be myself,
yet there are so many
words in my mixed-up heart.
I’d rather wait for another hour
for the visions of Vikings;
then sleep and dream of terror.
C & K 