avoiding

the woman standing at the bus stop

with two empty cat-carrier cases

is not making eye contact with the world

now the fog has cleared

now the fog has cleared

sky limpid, sun on green hils

oh how you are missed

I like foggy days

I can pretend you are here

how much you are missed

Julia, 3 years old, is sitting on my lap

Are you Father Christmas?

No, no I’m not.

But you’ve got a white beard.

Yes, but that’s because I didn’t shave during the lockdown.

And you bring us presents.

Yes, but that’s in the summer when we visit, not at Christmas.

…

And you’ve got a big big belly!

…

Ok, you got me. I AM Father Christmas!

autumn beginning
winds freshen, a first spitting
still you are not here

we were distant
but our hearts quickened the same
blood pumped
sweat ran
in my mind
I breathed your breath

I was thinking of you
and a hummingbird flew into the kitchen.
I had to tell you.

the you-shaped space within my arms

aches my chest with emptiness

soon? one day? it is all unknown

sunrise streaks yellow
breeze from the sea to the mountains
the first drops of autumn

I slipped in the shower
thinking of you
I tripped on the staircase
thinking of you
I think I can now quite unsafely say
I’ve fallen for you