Wednesday 6 March 2013


Stark flowers
Left white on graying lines
The petals don’t match
And we don’t like the same leaves.

We rose
Preparing to spring
You to Jan,
Me to December
Both cold, distant places
Poles of our similar seasons
Distinguishable to none.

Did I say we rose?
For yes, we rose.
But left only one.

I lazily flicked it away
But it came crawling back up my finger
I watched as it circled my nail.
It runs when I follow,
Creeps back when I turn away.

Why do yellow-blooded creatures remind me of you?

But there was my bubble
Glinting in the afternoon sun.
It was now.
It was my turn to leave.


  1. Loved it. There's a random flow to it which I really enjoyed.