Books, ISBN 978-0-905127-13-2;
first published on www.stridemagazine.co.uk
dark hair curling
round your ears, smell of generators and cigarettes and
dirty denim, you open the door to my skin the ride of my
life the holding on the screaming inside the slowly letting
it out needing the breath of your sweat to take me in. you
watch me as I circle you, and I am your dog on a string,
staring towards the back of a field where later we might lie
on trampled dandelions and stinging nettles, I imagine you taste
of garlic and cumin and wood smoke, and with these blue lights
tracing across my eyes, shouting go faster, your voice
is the lashing of rain against a water drum.
hands and rough broken skin, you call me darling as close
to my ear as a man can be, your mouth a pile of damp leaves,
your shoulders are burial mounds, your chest the bed of a river
I want to get down on my knees and lean into.
me into the dark of the field, where stars are below us in the
stretching arms of streetlights, where dogs bark in the distance
and my name is humming with engines.
poetry favourites: ShadowTrain
"The Big Picture",