Find me threading pearls of morning
onto a brown thread. Bright yellow
cuckoo beak tastes our bedroom
conversation – naked flesh and ridiculous
colours inside slants of
sunshine. You mustn’t. You musn’t smile at anyone
the way you just smiled
at me. Harden against my palm, we could be
saints this evening
handing out fistfuls of
free & sleepless nights. A cat trots
over the Italian skyline. Clouds
drawn by children slump into view, pop
one by one O it’s morning time
we didn’t know it was morning time, unless you did
and hid it? Watch him crack the
fall of a thursday man like a
breakfast egg.
– rain today reminds me of
reaching out in maiden sleep
pale as birth or cruel as the silence after
acres of his desperately white body
almost no voice at all – see how not even
he will get to keep her. See how she just
roams even further, cigarette in hand
turns the radio up to drown out his
stains like oil.
.
Blossom Hibbert
.