Sunshine and raindrops
pissing prisms on a hardlined face
salted kitten tears lick my cheeks and chafe
Chattering teeth mapped with spider cracks
drum out your name to the morning
and pleasant lies drift from harelip skies
and settle like snow on my shoulders.
Press me down while I play tic-tac-toasting
marshmallows on a fire that hisses and spits like asps
(asking me to stay in fitted gasps)
a rushing breath too sweet to last
The day shakes loose as trees fall down,
shuddering the earth,
burying squirrels in mounds of acorns, their shells torn off
Ask me again how the sparrows sing softly -
Was that tune a song for you?
The whistling is born aloft by the swirling breeze
(with just a hint of chill)
enough to raise the hackles,
and hold yourself in a lovers embrace.
Simon is a writer living in Manchester. You can find him on twitter here.