I miss Sunday
in a skyblue sundress
with sunlight
shining through
that gap between
thighs so soft
like cotton clouds.

You are:

a pile of spent lighters
sunrays through smoke
a searing bath, which feels
like an embrace

we will meet at the threshold
of water and oil.
we will meet at the brink
of night and day.

and seeing your
eyes, slowly
hold onto your nights—
the wind's rustling.

as night's darkness falls
the eternal wolf keeps watch
over tribal lands

It seems that,
rather than hiding from it,
I have learned to
hold hands
with the darkness.
A cold grip,
but no colder
than my own.

unto the earth's crust
soaking rains did pour down
quenching its dryness

Railway cuttings
Cut through my mind
The emptiness
Of what’s left behind.

A flower garden of wildness
Between broken sleepers
Who now find comfort
In railway suburbs.

Love Mary x

foggy inclines, green saplings
and pines: you always loved
the water.

you long for
elsewhere, but
the currents stirred and

you swept into the fir.