I Poured the Bran

I poured the Bran
I sat on my hands,
I hummed.
 
and I saw that face
from my window
before she was lost in dust
in the plastic keys
on a piano
or on a computer
 
equally futile
akin to crabs scuttling from reach
 
I scuttled too
so did you and he and she
 
all scuttling towards or away from…
it’s hard to tell
 
Through every box I fell into
jingled soft sappy Christmas carols
 
I was lost to it
really
I was lost in the box in which I came
I want to come
I never came
this week nothing arrived
 
No letters thorough the slot
just a waving shadow on the stairwell
 
Just as the foam sat in its bag
I fell sexless I stayed
 
until the microwave beeped
Then I got up
opened a cupboard
opened a door
opened my locked screen
 
faces all but gone
implied only in blue bubbles
pixellated chatter
 
I meant to write 30
but I only wrote 3
 
And I forgot to reply to that email
or tidy my room
filled with presents given or waiting to be given
bags boxes bags boxes bags
 
non-fiction 3 ams
staring into the carpet
with videos of more accomplished people
 
and that’s precisely it
– I want to dive into the warmest colour of myself
but I think I’ve already drowned in the greys around the edge
 
Shoes, pockets, mouths
all filled with pebbles
 
Something needs to be ravished
some building needs to be set alight
banality burnt down in wild, frenzied lines
 
We don’t need that sun in the sky
we need that sun in our eyes

The Third Tuesday



finishing the book
blank pages, an afterthought
silent appreciation over space
she smiled on the other side of the world
he smirked, remembering
a dirty moment with her on him

alone but for the squares on her wrist
reminder of human compassion (love)
forgetting about time,
when spider eats ant
they watch, as fascinated children
sipping fizzy water and drifting

chlorinated casualties
sun and shoulders, beaming down
textures and tones
a bicycle in the heat
riding the street past fatigue

morning gone, evening settled
selling melted malteasers
then laughing with another
it was a simple day,
sharing the green waves
ending up on a jetty
and the same cigarettes with which they began