I want to burrow myself back to when we first met.

That flickering summer, when

empty handed, holding our breath, kneeling in bandages,

you sucked the poison and spat it out.


I could taste the bitter tingle on your lips,

like petrol soaked smashed glass,

I noticed you had a flaked nail; varnish faded silver,

and a forehead with single bead of sweat.

I fell for you when you span me until I turned blue.


You had a fading yellow bruise on your right thigh,

teeth, faintly nicotine stained.

You smelt of second hand books,

looked as though you ought to have been married to an Egyptian king.


In every crowded room I see you first,

and you attack me like a migraine.

You’ve changed the chemicals in my brain,

turned the moon pink.


In my mug shot, I am a scrap of meat,

out of synch, but they all say, joy is everything.

And my dreams, clotted with wisdom, happiness, belief,

talk to me about love, and what I need to do to reach you.