I caught a fable with my eyes,
two ave companions taking a brief somersault on the telephone poles.
Before I confessed to my eyes
tearing up not because of the wistful background music playing but because of my thin skull resonating a piece of wire that had been stepped on, I confessed to the bad omen and gunfire smoke.
I knew my city from the burning tyres and living ghosts.
Our heartbeats only exist in cardiographs. I’d hide in the mystery of my eyes till I uncovered God.
I accepted my fate to be naked before the wind. A lithe crest of gleaming mocha with frames to hold the room and a stained mouth to briefly snatch the moon.
The seasons entering the horizon like backwash returned to its own mouth.
There was a velvet heaven, rogue and nocturne; half-cradling its stark moon
Like a stranger at the railway station, cautious and possessive.
I imagine the water as the broad chest of a man. Swirling.
Lungs rising and falling.
Fractured ribcage caught in the frantic struggle of cupping the quick song of small birds.
I hear my own voice weaving yours, bellowing above the wind.
My weak knees trembling down to my roots.
We’ll never find home.