It was a quiet day—
no bad news,
no sudden loss,
no reason to hold my breath.

I think today of the boy in choir class
who closed his eyes when we sang
about Jesus. Who swayed, as if the Lord

We saw a kingfisher threading the bright needle
of his body along the river. We saw a shag, stamping
her prehistoric shadow on the sky. We saw a hobby,

My double sits before me now. I stare deep into her, as I do every day after midnight. When I raise my hands, she raises hers.

Even though I only once traced your streets with my own feet,
you wandered into my dreams anyway
sliding in through my grandmother’s stories,

She wills his brush in colour
and chalking, fierce hued flaws,
which fall flat on the canvas

He thought his heart was broken yet the day began again.

We were on my pink love seat
skin touching skin
I was drunk but longing
circled me, like stars
from a cartoon head wound