Me and dad used to watch bats;
lie on the grass in the gap
between the house and hedge.

Shards of glass
against the barely black
half-light of July.

Flying in drops and dives
twisted kites
tossed on stormy skies.

Sat on the deck
we’d hear, under the gable
the static click

of sonar, like ships;
taut sails,
riddled with mites and ticks.

Pull the cord.
Click click.
Plunge into night.

Next-door’s light is oil on a puddle
through the dappled window -
bubbles on brown tiles.

Folded towels on toilet lid,
clothes crumpled on lino.
Skin pricked in frozen air.

Knotted hair falls,
shoulders lower into the tank,
steam rising from cold tin.

A baptism - of sorts.
Astreamofbreath.
Open mouth, choked,

soaked in this womb,
this tiny ocean.
Lungs searing,

eyes stinging,
light specks dart.
Water’s skin unbroken.

Brick-dust tumbles
with last reach for light,
choked leaves gasping for air.

Cigarette ends and spiders
come and go
like traffic on the road.

Violet against terracotta,
a Maasai on an African plain -
burning thirst.

Rain drips along
upright canals of grout
slurped by parched roots.

Crinkled buds
like babies’ hands,
drenched, unfold.

Brick dust tumbles
with last reach for light,
choked leaves gasping for air.

Cigarette ends and spiders
come and go
like traffic on the road.

Rain drips along
upright canals of grout
slurped by parched roots.

Crinkled buds
like baby’s hands,
drenched, unfold.

Me and Dad used to watch bats
lying on the grass in the gap
between the house and hedge.

Shards of glass
against the barely black
half light of July night.

Flying in drops and dives
like twisted kites
tossed in stormy skies.

Or sat on the deck
we’d hear, under the gable
the static click

of sonar, like ships;
taut sails, riddled
with mites and ticks.

There is a leaf stuck in an eddy
and stagnant water draws
close to its edge and folds.

It is torn. Its spine
and vanes stick
through brown tissue skin.

Water rushes past;
drums and drain pipes.
But the leaf and its pool are still.

Mist and foam of rapids
and the rumble of earth
are far away.

Saturated in silence
the leaf dips below
the surface and drowns.

Skin stings in the cold,
pupils contract,
air freezes lungs.

Shrouded in this dull ache,
blood like lead,
I’m heavy.

Like a sigh
life swept out of me,
I am a shell now.

Harsh brightness.
Coming to.
Deep breath.

Get up.