Twisted up in a pillar of
light and haze, should
be a stream of air
passable and laughable,
just shake free of it like
an illusionist, only the
twist is firm, concrete, alive
and sniggering, my stomach’s full
of it, this light and haze,
but today I am afraid.
Afraid of the world, untrusting yet
determined to stitch my eyes wide open,
sting my eyes with the quest
of what I face daily.
I’m barely trying, but I see you
unravelling, billowing, and it’s like
a wave, all fingers and nods,
not so different to that night
we faced eachother, and I asked
you ‘What are you thinking?’
You looked down and up again
grinning and I twisted
like these pillars of light,
said, ‘That’s what I thought,’
and our ghosts are still
there, toothy smiles, hot summer
sweating, what you call ‘the stink’
lingering, and I’m flying home,
no longer home, just another place,
but it’s not sad, just unnerving,
unpredictable like my attitude
and yours too, baby,
which is why it’s
OK that I’m afraid.