“Recurrence”

she’d tuck in the stained hem of her shirt
setting the wine down by the neck
after strangling the life out of it,
and now she’s lighting cigarettes
at every street corner I can see.

“Amber Heat”

This amber heat does nothing
to cast you aside,
images dropping like clouds:

lily petals curl and unfurl and curl
thorns twist and bite
roll down my neck
paint brushes my sides,
twisting all your colours together,
so much light and dark and white
like alabaster burning skin.
the amber sat and cooled,

forgotten.

“Hang”

They hang themselves
from the wooden beam
above my window,
each a symbol
of something or other
and probably meant
a lot to someone,
once.

Or was it me
that strung them
up to dry like leather
in the midday sun?
They glitter in
and out of my thoughts
till I take one
by the neck.

It feels like a choke-chain.