it depended on the week.
the clocks fell limp—for once
we felt no need in being

anchored to the planet.
space made more sense. leaving
patterns and trails so marvelous

a comet would blush.
but this is no heaven. angels do not wander
past our own dimensions:

                          all those miles may never go back.


we suckled nature’s poison in mouthfuls.
we dreamt in the gloom of wood. where
silence framed the heart

in every colour.
the sun craved soft oblivion, too. flirting
with caution signs and traffic cones

and finally, blood.
the colour of sunday evening. those darker holidays
i’d watch her study death:

                               for is not time the study of death?

a childhood spread early, easily, a lifeline like butter.
peter pan mastered dreams—and daggers. if you’re lucky
the devil might leave you

roses at your doorstep.
shoes off, what more did you hope to shed? at home
you learned to love yourself

from across the avenue.
so try again tomorrow, try again. try “Tomorrow--
everyone’s favourite one night stand!”:

                        because loneliness is more loyal than they will ever be.

then came the hour you yawned.
the sandman wept, too. stealing life away in sleep
but never knowing

what it meant to handle.
i heard you then, i listened after. during
those sad afternoons we spent

watching the light change.
a change so soft, a change seldom subtle. we learned
life was no slender hope:

                            to never apologize for feeling.

and that was the way you won.
you beat the traffic of our bodies. a heart that wore
a cape of good hope

echoing past the sea.
in a world as big as this one! i felt it
whispering, whispering

“yes, yes, yes!”—oh, i remember that day.
the graveyard, almost sick with flowers. for the loudest heart
only ever needed two words:

                           “you matter.”