But smile.

You smile
and I know your blue lips would taste of raspberry slushies
and sneaked licks of lollipops.
We dance together on shaved ice,
performing our own
pas de deux
where I end up on the floor a lot
and you laugh with me as my knees get wet,
then slip
into the the crowd of uncanny faces
who wonder
why this girl would sit
alone and shiver,
but smile.


We bathe in moonlight
And pack away our whispers that we already regret
Wanting to say them louder
Or maybe not at all.
You take me to the shop
That smells of burning sugar
And almonds
And the secrets drip from my tongue
Like syrup
The fluorescent eyes winking
As we sway.


I’m trying to write a poem about you
but all I can think of
is the song that you showed me.
The one that you want me to sing for you.

I am stuck on you
like chewing gum
under those desks we talk to.
Scribbling down lyrics on the wood
from songs that weren’t made for us
but fit
like I know my hand would in yours.

My voice may not have sung for you yet
but my heart is an entire orchestra.

It’s a shame. *hmm?* The world we’ve created.

“Try not to breathe,
Each breath kills a polar bear!
Don’t fear, you can save them,
Oh yes! You can!
Just $5 a month
So give us a call!
Please help them.
Please help us.
Please help-”

maybe it’s time to.
Switch on again
when we’re trapped in a heatstorm
and the only rainfall left
is acid dropping from the clouds.

Switch on.
-plug in-
There are no more adverts at least.
The polar bears aren’t here
To laugh at the gods
Who kept them captive
W i l t i n g down
To their polished feet
For the selfishness of $5.

Call of May

My feet scuff
the uneven
I kick my limbs
To French music
That i don’t
The sickly smell
of pine greets
And the needles
poke at my bare
A distant
Of a honey bee,
I’d like to
Is all i need to stay

I sometimes wish it never happened, so I wouldn’t miss it as much as I do.

“I don’t know Jack shit about this.”
but we play anyway.
Bent cards flipping off the table,
focus in our gritted teeth
that is clear to all the passengers
on the train.
Our hands fly down, hard.
My thumb might break,
I think but just laugh,
our screams flutter down the aisles
and the Aces, to the floor,
next to our feet,
to our boots ,
tired of the Velcro of Yorkshire.

“Was it nice?”

Imagine that the sky was filled with fluff.

With fluff, Ma?

Yes, looking soft as can be. Even softer than your fuzzy jumper you wore last Tuesday. And softer than your father’s beard-

wow, that’s amazing

-except it was just light water! So not really fluffy at all.

Water like from the tap? Could I drink it, Ma, could I?

There would be far too much for you to drink, dear! But the water would fall sometimes, to us, and if the sky was bright and blue, our land would fill with colour.

And what was colour like, Ma?

Starch Awakening

Lift the earth
Pull out the shrunken heads
Watch as they grin
Finally released
From their suffocating tombs
The dull skin is peeled
And they return to the funeral pyre
Covered in vinegar
And oil.

Sunlight comes in shards

fragmented pearls
are presented
behind smudged windows
reflecting back my desire
to be in constant with you
Now and until

your nose wrinkles
with laughter
as we whisper swears
to the moss sleeping
in abandoned churches

I trace the dips
and valleys of your chin
that ducks with your smile

Your smile that rests in mine.