Poem for a Man with No Sense of Smell
This is simply to inform you: that the thickest line in the kink of my hand smells like the feel of an old school desk, the deep carved names worn sleek with sweat;…
4 tygodnie temu
Patagonia
I said perhaps Patagonia, and pictured a peninsula, wide enough for a couple of ladderback chairs to wobble on at high tide. I thought of us in breathless cold, facing a horizon round as a coin, looped in a cat’s cradle strung by gulls from sea to sun. I planned to wait…
4 tygodnie temu
A Married Man
The married man dreamt last night of a house that someone’d left him: the sort of house you have in dreams, a thousand rooms, one corridor. He wandered round alone, he told me, smiled his quiet, inward smile. And found…
4 tygodnie temu
Raspberries
The way we can’t remember heat, forget the sweat and how we wore a weightless shirt on chafing skin, the way we lose the taste of raspberries, each winter; but…
4 tygodnie temu
Double Take
I imagined that you’d miss me, thought you’d pace your hardwood floor in odd worn socks, watch the clock sit stuck, get late to work, type my name caps lock press and hold shift/break, miss buses, meals or sit with fork half-way, lost, for minutes,…
4 tygodnie temu