Up

There is an
Aspiration for up
When sideways might be more full of joy
When down might be more realistic

When losing momentum and
Staying
Willfully
Might be braver, even

But the sky still governs our senses
As impossible as the stars will always be
Our orientation remains,
Stubbornly
Stunningly

Up

Mirror

I have been used
To mirroring you

Your rage
Your joy
Your twists

I unentangled myself
From you by
Chewing through my
Veins

Quenching the bloodflow
With my fingers

Sewing myself back together
With skin gathered from
Lashes on my back

It is just after the operation
I am in isolation
Finding my mouth again

Finding pockets of emptiness
Looking absently for a mirror
To find you in
To fill me again, then

My veins remind me of how I
Had to tear them from you
My arms bare the scars of my stitches,

To ease the emptiness ache, then
I have to relearn my own reflection

Palm

My palm lies on yours
An anxiety of skin
What peace does love bring?

Made of Volcanoes

It appears you have forgotten
What you are made of
As you creep into a room
Head down

Shrinking into yourself

Trying to make yourself
As close to
Disappearing as you can

Raise your head
Open your mouth and
Roar
You are the World

You are made of Volcanoes
Magma flowering in your hair

You are made of Opera songs
Vibrations of impossible notes
Humming in your teeth

You are made of Tides
Extra terrestrial forces
Licking your soles

You are made of Winter
Crackling things dry
Storing life and death in your joints
Showing yourself brilliant in
Stark Sun

Unshrink yourself darling
Come into yourself

The years will unfold around you
Summon them with your Roar that
Sounds like

Opera songs exploding in Winter Waves
Wrap yourself in your own delight
You are the World
Too full of wonder to make yourself Small

falling

You appeared to me
In my blindness

My fingers on your face
I recognised you

when the ghosts

When the ghost
Came to visit me last night
I opened my covers

Let her in
She told me she misses you
She told me it hurt more than
She had hoped
She curled up inside my arm pit

When the ghost came to visit me
Last night

I let her in
Under the covers, like she was used to
She told me she was sorry
She never meant to hurt me
Her probing fingers were part of her anger
She curled up inside my knee.

When the ghost came
To visit me last night

I let him in
He told me he was angry
No one was there when
They set him on fire
No one was there to hear him burn

He curled up in my wrist

When the ghosts came to
Visit me last night
I let them in
They sat round the edges of my bed
201 of them, mangled from the machinery
down the mine shaft

I am sorry
I told them

They shook their heads
No amount of blood-letting
They said

They want nothing from me now
Except for me to open my covers every night
Let them sleep in my bed

They curled up, one by 201
Inside my head.

Burning Boat

I am on fire
You are inside me
We are a burning boat
Sacrificing ourselves
To the river-gods