dream-bones stay long after
he has woken up:
bright, lightweight and silvery.

fused together by memories
and the sleepy recollections of them.
hips joined to ex-lovers and their feathery touchings.

these hollow bones can fly
not on wings, on the rush of nostalgia
high, before a fall.

you talk like a kennedy.
east-coast americana.
salt spits from your
weaponised mouth.

go back to your compound
and lie on the surf
from whence you came.
chunky sweater man.

i’m not your jackie,
nor will i piece your head back
together. your old-world
dreams return to the sea.