Free wifi

Wild winters

Back at home

Freeze in time, almost

Except maybe 10 minutes

Passing library or cafe

When our worlds mingle

And blur

And my words spit at yours

And yours whisper back


You tell me you’re sleeping

When I’m awake

You’re dreaming

No I am dreaming.

I trace the mountain tops

I trace the mountain tops

with my eyes

and now my pencil too

scratching, outlining the tip

I dip and duck into creases

I shade and shadow

shallow edges

and dark ridges

black and white

I use my fingers now

letting them walk

across cliff face

and jump down

so I have to bend knuckle

to reach back up

to sharper edges

that cut my skin

as I graze the points

and then my hand

falls downwards

as I reach the end of the cliff

and I dip


into icy waters


She knew we were watching

and everyone else

As she led her parade

of butter skin

and salted and bleached hair

past boys who shouldn’t be looking

and girls who couldn’t stop

because these newly bronzed baby faces

are kissed and caressed

by our eyes

and they savour

the judgement

that imprints on their damp skin

and they pretend it’s a compliment

but this compliment

will bite them tomorrow

when they look in the mirror

and see our eyes looking back


‘Battle of Love’ by Pablo Picasso

These entangled lines have secrets

that lurk in the creases

of the bubbled bodies

that bend and fold

around bed and bedpost

Is this desire, really?

or is this stylish rape

embellished with paints

a ‘love’, you say?

between who?

between victim and beast

is that a leg? or arm?

or is that insides coming out

not so glamorous anymore


Is this art, now?

Is this art?


More sunburn

My velvet bruise

turns crimson

in the salty sun’s

summer stain

and my body crumbles

because it is used

to kinder temperatures

when the sky isn’t so cruel

and does not try to infect

my freckled

speckled skin

and make me ash

buttered up

and battered


He told me he loved me

He told me the other day

but I was laughing

and using my laughter to fill my ears

to block noise or notion

body and motion

and his truth

that I pretended was a joke.


But now,

now I am thinking clear

and my ears are empty

body clean

and I can hear him

or a memory of him

and he tells me I am cruel and unkind

to ignore him

and all I want

is to be kind