Your curiosity is inviting
And your smile too,
Yet I won’t be drawn out
There’s a dainty threshold
That designs the odd symmetry of
Playground
And graveyard
Winter light is a wick
About to burn out.
In the shadows
The veins of ancient yew
Pump a poison of their own.
3pm - I suddenly don’t feel so bold
I narrow the frame
My eyes keep on flicking edgeways
Towards the gravestones
And the cellophane colony of snowdrops
In January’s Gothic theme-park
Miscast Hamlet plays at phrenology
Amidst perfect props that you can’t see
You take notes
Your face is aglow in the yellow kitchen.
I don’t trust your biology, your DNA
A better God would have given you neon irises
That glow immortal in the dark.
A passing train drowns out the thought
We’ve choreographed good-byes
Down to a ‘T’
You’ve got a client to see,
I’m left with the rain,
Wishing for once
This fizz that you call my mind
would fizzle out
I would reboot
300 years ago
As the mute armourer
Of a hidden Bavarian Schloss.
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