I'm busy waiting for the day
When locking cages of red metal
Will feel natural
When a spring shoot
Will be a daffodil between us,
Yellow,
My favourite colour.

In bed
Casting glances likes hooks across me
Pulling at skin, my
Ill fitting armour
What is this mess, this brutal growth
Of you and I, this and that?
Who knew, but something natural
That it is not.