You are the music

The music pours into the room.
 
This room is you.
 
It’s always been there
but I hadn’t noticed it until now
 
Before, I didn’t know the richness of the tapestries on the wall
and I never sat at the oak table in my pyjamas
reading the story inside its wood
 
In the cemetery
I held my breath all night
 
I felt the leaves, or was it you
run a hand down the line from my cheek to my chest
 
The deep black line curving through
and aching
 
As it echoes,
aching in thick pulsing waves
as it echoes
 
In the morning
it washed me ashore, into your arms
Back to the room in the house of my heart
 
that I never thought to open before.

Teabag afternoon

All in almond,
ceiling crumbs land on your cheek
 
A soft glance up
and a quick step to the right
 
His vacant chair is found
the jacket, you quietly touch
 
Grinning with peppermint mischief
slip away to the park.

You, Me, Next Week

Below me, beyond clouds
a four-day morning
we’ll sleep
and we will wake

Those hours, I’ll be humming
my toes on the edge
the blanket
the mist out the window

Your profile
a Roman myth
soft as you hand me the mug
smile like a grey, soft sky

To open and breathe
black, hot, bitter
the music pours out like wine
and you,

You
resonate on my tongue.

A Wave

A shell lies waiting
beaming in a ray of light
(my hand)

We lie in a hot room
smiling around the curl
of the shell

Bright blue, a day away
and a dream
falling

In the thick of the last night
I sang to the shell
the melody ran in a wink

Trailed off into the heaving sea
there’s no more
and I’m on a plane

And suddenly what I had is gone
disappeared
(a wave)