Sunday, 9 October 2011


Spilt time: of course we spilled over somewhat:
It was always intended, in hindsight.
Hiatus of friction-stubble on cheek,
Our tentative finger-brushes painting –
Dilating irises linger and flux
Before the safe-clasp rediscovery.

The platform’s parting-drift: dragging boot soles
Trailing off - adhesive sight-line severed
In the gathering chomps of momentum.
The gluey-remnants of fragrance and touch
Left to the elemental shower gush
To pick and scrape away – like nesting birds.

The fear of committing to spilt time: that
Just before moment from defintion.

No comments:

Post a Comment