Efeles has been silent for eight hundred years. I have not spoken since you told me what you felt. I know how the volcano feels.
words written with feather point
sharp lines soft emotion
words written with feather point
blurring into clouds
like matches or gasoline
hearts are so flammable
like matches or gasoline
heat love and the oxygen of attention
the eternal triangle
once more
night light
we see the same moon
the light on my neighbour’s gate
stars prickling the velvet sky
every day just before light
every day
just before light
Hope lands on my windowsill
her claws echoing on the lead
she – I think of her as she –
sidles up and down
staring at me or her reflection
until
with the light
I get out of bed
and move to the kitchen
she is usually there before me
her tapping accelerated
but somehow still controlled
like those times in a jazz club
when you air drum along
or get to the bar while it’s quiet
she moves swiftly away
when I open the window
then dove steps back
and explosively pecks
at the seeds I have scattered there
I don’t see her for the rest of the day
only in the morning
when I wait for her
every day
just before light
two weeks ago last Friday
she arrived with a friend
or a partner or mate
or an opportunistic passer-by
they seemed to share the food
quite fairly
and then they left together
the rest of the day
I sat in my chair
thinking of how our relationship
might develop
and underlining birdseed on my list
I did not see them again
until this morning
and then not her
but only her friend
who clattered on the sill
alone and ignoring
the seed piled up like sand dunes
I don’t know if she’ll stay
or if she’ll come back
every day
just before light
I think I’ll call her Hope
Spring is near coming
Spring is near coming
bare branches explode in green
the sea fog rolls in
voicemail
footsteps
birds singing
trees swaying
your breathing
he read her a poem
he read her a poem
a glass of cool water
on a summer’s night
I stayed awake
I stayed awake
all night
to ensure my heart
did not burst into flames
in the morning
the clouds were red
memories
through the mist
memories
stand heavy as horses
weight tilted
through muscle and bone
patiently waiting