The Remains

After many years of love the bow broke,
then the music of love stopped playing;
we began to drift apart and separate.

Littered among the remains of
the two of us
are the ashes of music instruments.

All the music we played for each other
is now burnt
to the ashes on the floor of our parting.

Falling Fruit


You fly into the blue
Another journey to somewhere
while I remain nowhere

As you fly into the blue
An engine gives a cough
The cargo bounces about

You text me of love
A strange message from you
I text back words of love

They say the plane crashed slow
Hundreds of lives frozen in terror
My heart broke into love shards

You died in that crash
Going into the green
As it rained falling fruit

Painting by Mercedes Granel, “Falling Fruit.”

The Trappings of Love

Rusty razor blades sitting in the bin,
hairbrushes and combes laying loose.

Bathroom items lounging about,
something fluffy is stuck to the floor.

Empty plastic bottles and bits sit still,
dirty laundry piles up even higher.

Packets of surfboards hide from sight,
sex toys blush quietly contemplating life.

The drain gurgles about your love life;
the trappings of love have found you both –
as you fleece each other with the tweezers.


Your love of unimportant things,

The way you hold cutlery at 2 am,

Ice cream and passionfruit eyes,

Your expensive underwear taste,

The wiggling that goes on daily,

Kisses after drinking apple juice,

Such love is only a

once in a million love

that I found with you.