Monday, 15 December 2014


you carry l i g h t 
in your crackled hands
and i wait for morning
to shine its first moon glow
in through the winter
w h i t e
of day

Wednesday, 10 December 2014

Any storm

Your eyes find cluster constellations
that mine can't quite map, yet.
Smoke fills the evening sky
as Jupiter shines down
on the icy bogside;
december's first night.

Ink on skin finds points
of no return;
moons in every phase to come.
Talk of caravans and lists
on damp paper
fill your kitchen
with hope and confusion.

And then you ask me
for 'Scaffolding',
and I know our wall 
will weather any storm;
any storm that comes.