365 Poems – 127 Waiting (Rough First Draft)


I have unfolded

all of the candles,

so I can see

the length of the wicks.


I’m panicking slightly,

trying to keep myself distracted,

because my throat and chest hurt.


You would say something sane,

like it might be because

your tea was too hot

when you gulped it down.


You’ve double locked yourself

inside my heart.


I want to gulp down the miles

you have to travel, so that you

get here quicker, and we can

have our frantic, heavy kisses,

hot like midday sunlight.



I would print pictures

of your bones to look at

when you are absent,

and  re-tell myself the stories

of where they have travelled to.


I make a nest for us to settle,

fill it with pillows, apples and bits

of the moon, wrapped in wax

and greaseproof paper.