A fading; remorse

She walked away through
the hills of clay
while I stood in dismay and cold wonder

The dew was a treaty
in the moment, so fleeting
and the sobs were snored and bleated

She was a soul with
a palm on the world
and a rhythm matched only by fire

In a staunch morning breeze
I fell to my knees
and triggered a twofold, wet coda.

These Ghosts

A rippling wall lets me know I’m alive
when the lights come on and there’s no one inside

The carpet stains scream for countless days
and I dream of a wash in innumerable ways

You sit up and take notes
amid the voles and the stoats

With your withering eyes
that offer no hint of surprise

Creak more wood now I’m listening
steam the windows ‘til they’re glistening

Mine my heart

Mine my heart with your shovel
and pickaxe with no word spoken
for what seems like days. Drag
yourself away and be that man
you deserve to be. Be a ghost if
you like, I’ll lay here and wait.
Hand me a smoke and wait
til it’s burned away, hand me a
whisky and show me how to
play these ivory keys while we
sway. The drum roll. It excites
to crescendo. Then you’re gone.
Silence rockets and this taste
is inhumane. Mine my heart
and say what you say. You’ll
be gone in the morning and I
prefer it this way.