I like the colour purple,
     as it blooms across my skin,
The delicate spread of lavender,
     dappled with yellow and green.

I like the smell of iron,
     of copper pennies and blood
As it oozes form a scab
     or drips from a fresh cut.

I like the feel of my ribs,
     the bones beneath my skin,
The curve of my skull under my cheek,
     Or the joints of every knuckle.

Insubstantial
And Inane
Everyone
Is the same
In this game

everything of
me was choir-song

every bolt of
air,
every summer
moon,
every drop of
cooling rain,

in spring i
melted like
a hedgerow,
in gold and
sky-bronze,

in summer i
gathered the sky
to my branches
green with shadows
of longing,

in autumn i trembled
downwards like a
girl unwinding her
hair,

and in winter i froze
on the doorstep
all black branch
and cold
rigging on
a barren ship,

everything of me
was choir-song and
i had the most
beautiful
purple throat,

i was a soft
melody of love
on a strange
moody day.